The Economic Woes of the Lord of Evilland
Epic #2 – The Perils of Pizza Shed
The sun rises high in the later hours of the morning as Lord Emperor Zhorg at last stirs from the bed in the chambers of his royal harem – clad in nothing save the helm of his armor that he never removes in the presence of another being under any circumstance, he slowly walks over to the mirror in the corner of the room to admire his perfect physique before turning to the concubines that still lay upon the mattress adorned with fine linens and silks he took as plunder from conquered lands. “Servants!” the emperor barks out to the concubines on the mattress, “bring the Lord of Evilland his armor, cleanse his body of the remnants of his night of carnal pleasure and prepare for him a breakfast fit for the conquering lord – the lord of Evilland is currently stricken with the desire for pancakes.”
The concubines – petite, slender, nubile females with small busts and curvy figures clad in metal bras and skimpy loin cloths who exist solely for the entertainment of the emperor – rise from the bed with haste: one immediately fetches a pale of water scented with jasmine and lavender as well as a rag to bathe her master as the other heads out the door towards the imperial kitchen to satisfy the emperor's morning hunger. The remaining concubine proceeds to thoroughly wash every crevasse of her master's form as he stood in the center of the room impatiently. “Hurry servant!” the emperor demands as the concubine washes as quickly as she possibly can while concealing her sense of dread as her master has executed others like her for lack of satisfactory performance. “The Lord of Evilland is late for his meeting with his advisors already!”
Upon finishing the bath, she fetches the red and black plates of her master's armor and proceeds to adorn him with his outfit that serves as both his imperial vestment and his protection from harm – many have attempted to end the life of the Lord of Evilland and all have failed due to the quality his plate mail: it's said in hushed whispers that this suit of plate armor is a magical artifact of tremendous power – a gift from the god of bloodshed and carnal excess Chorneesh himself. The concubine carefully inspects the armor before she informs her master that she is finished whilst repressing the stories of this horrible relic that even now make her blood run cold if she even dares contemplate them.
The Lord of Evilland leaves the bed chambers and casually walks down to the kitchen with his servant in tow – there he finds a table adorned with a white linen cloth and a large silver platter filled with pancakes that are hot off the stove alongside a glass bottle of syrup. The emperor sits at the head of the table whilst his servants stand at the foot with their heads bowed to avoid making eye contact as their master consumes the meal in front of him. The Lord of Evilland devours the food on the platter before him in a mere instant before rising to his feet and walking towards the kitchen counter: he opens up a drawer and produces a parchment from within – upon the parchment is a list with numbered check boxes that the emperor proceeds to mark as he reads them.
“Let's see...” he mutters as he goes through the list, “the carnal pleasures provided last night were up to standards, the bath was less than enthusiastic this morning but still satisfactory and breakfast was prepared to my liking in a timely manner – you two don't get any special rewards for services rendered unto the Lord of Evilland for this performance, but he sees fit that you should be allowed to live. But you still need to improve, understood?”
“Yes my lord” the concubines say in complete unison, still keeping their heads bowed low - “we live and die at your pleasure.”
“Good to hear” the emperor replies - “now I have to be updated on some details about... What was it again?” the Lord of Evilland wonders aloud. “Some special operation of some sort...”
“Could it be the kidnapping of the Dwarven princess you mentioned last night, my lord?” one of the concubines speaks up. “The master was boasting of how the ransom would cover the deficits incurred by the wars and finance the Legions of Despair for at least another campaign season.”
“Oh, right...”the emperor whispers to himself – perhaps the Lord of Evilland is still intoxicated by his evening of pleasure he muses to himself. “At any rate, the Lord of Evilland demands that you clean the bed chambers, inspect the servants' quarters for vermin and see to it that you are ready to be called upon again tonight!”
“Yes my lord” the concubines again say in complete unison as they keep their heads bowed low still - “we live and die at your pleasure.”
“Damn right!” the Lord of Evilland exclaims as he heads towards the door.
***
The Lord of Evilland steps into his throne room to find his finance minister Rorgaag the Slayer meeting with his foreign minister as his intern Lavinia takes notes – as he ascends the staircase towards his throne his ministers cease their discussion to stand at attention for their lord. “It seems that the Lord of Evilland is somewhat late to this meeting” the emperor bluntly states as he takes his seat upon the throne. “It appears as though the harem has distracted him from the business of ruling his kingdom, but when the most nubile girls in the land are just... Right there for the taking...” he drones on, “Can you really blame him? That's the dream that all warlords aspire to, yes?”
Those lucky girls... Lavinia contemplates excitedly to herself with jealousy as she struggles to compose herself before the emperor whose very footsteps she would worship if commanded to. They get to experience the raw, unrestrained power of my idol in the most passionate and intimate way! I only hope I can be deigned worthy of that honor someday!
“Of course, my lord.” Rorgaag the Slayer replies with a sigh before motioning towards the foreign minister: Ogre King Grushuum – a heavy-set beast of a berserker with a patch over one eye and stands over eight feet in height, clad in a red tunic held in place by a belt adorned with the skulls of his fallen foes as well as designated compartments for a giant pair of cleavers he is never apart from. “The minister brings news of the results of your plans. I will allow him to fill you in on the details...”
“Ogre King Grushuum say his forces have taken the Dwaf princess last night” the giant bellows out of the success of his mission. “Ogre King Grushuum say that he received intelligence that the princess and her escorts were headed on a diplomatic mission to negotiate with the vampire lords to our Eastern border for an easement on tariffs of beer exports. Ogre King Grushuum say that he took a small contingent of his mercenaries to intercept the caravan. Ogre King Grushuum say that he left no survivors among the servants of the entourage, so the Dwarven king should not even be aware of the fact that his daughter is in our custody at this moment.”
“Most excellent – the Lord of Evilland is pleased to hear this!” the emperor shouts with glee. “Now is the time to send word to the Dwarven king that the princess is now in the possession of the Lord of Evilland – and he shall use his new Orange MacStone to contact him with a Zip call.”
“My lord, we discussed making new purchases without re-examination of the budget.” Rorgaag the Slayer chided. “State of the art magitech doesn't come cheap and the kingdom is already struggling to accommodate the current expenditures that the lord demands of it.”
“Ha!” scoffs the emperor at his finance minister - “the ransom of the dwarf girl shall cover all debts related to the new MacStone and then some! Now to set up for a Zip Call to the royal palace of the Dwarven kingdom...” The Lord of Evilland, not being terribly savvy in the ways of magitech, struggles with the interface of theMacStone: a group of light spheres that hover over the polished stone that radiates an orange glow – at first opening a sphere icon for UTuub that directed to a channel of life hacks for overlords (the most recently watched video being “Ten Cost-Effective Ways to Torture Your Prisoners!”), which the emperor closed out immediately before opening another sphere icon that booted up a game of “Hunnypow.” “The Lord of Evilland commands you to ignore that!” the emperor shouts from atop his throne with considerable embarrassment before closing out the program.
“Uh... Perhaps you should let my try this, my lord.” Lavinia says as she approaches the throne – with a quick wave of her hands, she finds the proper sphere icon for Zip and immediately connects to the ethereal server. “I've almost got it... You will see some ads here unless you sign up for the premium service.”
“The Lord of Evilland will allow this.” the emperor replies - “it's better than staring at a blank sphere as a connection is established.” At that moment an ad for Virgin-Mobil fills the sphere: “Energy for a strong Evilland” the advertisement reads. “A strong Evilland indeed! Have you seen the price of virgins lately?” the emperor queries sarcastically. “It's unbelievable! The Lord of Evilland's energy bills are through the roof because of the high cost of virgins!”
“Well, there is something you can do about that, my lord...” Rorgaag the slayer chimes in.
“No!” the emperor rebukes the finance minister. “The Lord of Evilland is not having this discussion right now! There will be no changes to...” the emperor suddenly pauses as he sees the sphere change to a view from inside the Dwarf king's palace. “Ah, the sovereign of the neighboring kingdom of the dwarves – the Lord of Evilland has news for you!” the emperor boasts with an aura of confidence about him.
“Speak quickly you pompous nitwit.” the Dwarven kings replies without an ounce of subtlety or tact. “My daughter is expected back from her meeting with the vampire lords in the next hour and I have precious little time to waste on your nonsense.”
“Your daughter is returning?” the emperor questions with feigned ignorance. “Do you not know the dangers of sending her to meet with the sworn enemies of the Lord of Evilland? Who knows what might have befallen her by now...”
“Get to the point.” the Dwarven king gruffly retorts. “You speak as though you know nothing about this, but I know that your words are filled with insincerity! If you have news of my daughter be out with it!”
“Very well then...” the emperor continues - “The Lord of Evilland has successfully ambushed her entourage and taken her prisoner! She now resides in the dungeon tower of the lair of the Lord of Evilland and will remain there unless you pay a ransom of...
100 billion gold coins!”
“Are you mad?” the Dwarven king questions this absurd demand given to him. “The entire Gross Domestic Product of my kingdom is roughly half that amount on a good year! And the last few years haven't been so great on account of the effects that your ill-conceived wars of aggression have had on the markets of this region! My kingdom is experiencing all sorts of undue financial hardship as your mercenaries and Legions of Despair have made importing and exporting goods abroad a total nightmare for merchants!”
“Then...” the emperor pauses in contemplation. “You could perhaps pay the ransom in an installment plan? Yes – the Lord of Evilland will hold your daughter on layaway until all installments are payed up!”
“Ridiculous!” retorts the Dwarven king filled with rage. “By the time my kingdom finishes the payments for this ransom my grandchildren will likely have passed on from age! Release her immediately or else there shall be war between us - and believe me there will be no shortage of allies willing to aid me in my campaign against your pompous ass!”
“You do that and your daughter will be defiled and torn apart right now in front of you...” the emperor threatens. “You know that the Lord of Evilland has done this many times over the span of his rule and will be all-too-happy to do it again.”
“My lord,” Rorgaag the Slayer interjects - “we are currently strained to the limits of our financial capabilities with the wars we are currently waging. Perhaps if you reduce the ransom to an amount that's more realistic another war can be avoided and we still gain a significant profit from the kidnapping operation.”
“Ogre King Grushuum say that he concurs with this course of action” the foreign minister adds. “Ogre King Grushuum say that the mercenaries that the Lord of Evilland has contracted will not fight unless they are properly paid and at least half of them haven't had their wages delivered to them in weeks. Ogre King Grushuum say that this could lead to mass desertions from Evilland's armed forces and may sour relations with the homelands of the mercenaries as they are dependent upon those soldiers for their income. Ogre King Grushuum say that the rulers of the confederated territories of Evilland may be provoked into open revolt if their primary source of income was cut off whilst their soldiers are ordered to engage in yet more wars without payment.”
“No!” bellows the emperor. “The Lord of Evilland has spoken! Dispatch a guard to the dungeon tower this instant to the Dwarf princess' chamber – for the Lord of Evilland will deflower and dismember her right here over this ZipCall!”
“OH! EM! GEE!” Lavinia squeals with delight. “I actually get to see my idol utterly destroy his prisoner up close and in person! This is a real treat!” the intern gushes on with stars in her eyes and her feet dancing back and forth with nearly uncontrolled joy just before she dashes for the door to summon a guard. Upon opening the door to the throne room she finds a goblin with a look of worry on his face who motions for Lavinia to bend her ear closer: he bears news and has great reservations about sharing it with his lord directly – he whispers into the intern's ear and then immediately flees the room for fear of his master's wrath.
“Where is the prisoner?” the emperor questions impatiently. “The Lord of Evilland is always ready to satisfy his baser desires for blood, pain and sorrow!”
“Well... You see...” Lavinia stammers. “The guard just informed me that the prisoner is... Gone.”
“What?” the emperor queries with disbelief. “The Lord of Evilland must see for himself!” he calls out to his ministers as he makes haste towards the dungeon tower...
***
The wooden door to the dungeon cell is smashed to splinters in an instant as Lord Emperor Zhorg punches through it – he frantically searches about the cell to find nothing more than loose shackles and a chamber pot within. The ministers and the intern follow in tow behind their lord and begin carefully inspecting the cell as the emperor pitches a fit.
“How dare she?” the emperor rages. “This puny insect of a princess has no right to deny the Lord of Evilland the opportunity to deflower her and tear her to pieces with his bear hands! She will rue this action as he shall... Deflower her and tear her to pieces – just as he intended to before...” he trails off upon the realization that he is unable to come up with a more creative or horrible punishment for his captive.
“My lord,” Rorgaag the Slayer interrupts the rantings of his emperor. “It appears as though the locks were picked – perhaps she got a hold of some improvised tools or perhaps smuggled in an implement that could be used as a lock pick?”
“Ogre King Grushuum say that there's no way out of this cell for a human-sized prisoner” the foreign minister adds. “Ogre King Grushuum say that the only possible exit to the dungeon tower cell is the cell window – the bars are to closely spaced for most humans, but a dwarf just might fit through the bars.”
With an explosive display of might, Lord Emperor Zhorg tears the bars right out of the window and peers outwards – he sees the Dwarven princess standing on the ledge: her eyes wide with fear as she looks down over the abyss bellow – a massive moat of corrosive acid waiting at the bottom. “Get back here, prisoner!” the emperor bellows in rage. “You must be defiled and slain before your stubborn bastard of a father!”
Upon hearing the emperor's threats the fear in her eyes fled away – a look of resolve came upon the face of the Dwarven princess to deny the Lord of Evilland his victory. With a deep breath and a single push, she sent herself sailing from the ledge into the pool of acid below as she accepted her gruesome fate without uttering so much as a word to her would-be captor, torturer and slayer.
“Gods dammit!” the emperor curses with impotent rage as he observes the acid melt away the flesh and bones of the escaped prisoner. How shall the Lord of Evilland make good on his threats now? This shall forever be a blight upon his reputation!”
Perhaps you shouldn't have led with the “I will defile and slay you” line... Rorgaag the Slayer silently contemplates to himself upon witnessing this disastrous defeat that the Lord of Evilland managed to snatch from the jaws of victory.
“Ah...” pouts Lavinia - “I was really looking forward to seeing my lord's power on full display! I can only imagine what it's like to be on the receiving end of it all: that sensation of pain and pleasure you get as you are simultaneously entered and torn apart by this true specimen of a man...” she drones on before experiencing a sudden smack to the back of her head.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, girl?” the orcish finance minister rebukes the overly-enthusiastic intern. “This is serious! The kingdom is about to be involved in at least one more military conflict and we're going to have to fight it with less manpower now that we don't have the funds to keep paying the mercenaries we've been relying on!”
“Ogre King Grushuum say that he shall compile a list of mercenary forces ranked by combat performance – we go over the list and see which ones we continue to employ and which ones we send home.” the foreign minister adds. “Ogre King Grushuum say that some very difficult decisions will be made as sending the mercenaries home will have diplomatic repercussions with the rulers of their homelands: they might not have work lined up for the returning soldiers and this can lead to all manner of public order problems that they might blame on the Lord of Evilland.”
“But...” the emperor stammers with exhaustion now that his rage has passed - “...but how will the Lord of Evilland pay for his new Orange MacStone?”
The orcish finance minister turns to his lord with a sigh of frustration whilst repressing the urge to roll his eyes at the emperor. “I suppose that you will have to find a way to do this yourself” he states bluntly. “Your kingdom is in some dire straights here my lord and it seems like we will have to muster every available resource just to keep it solvent. My suggestion is that the intern you hired can help you scare up the resources to pay for your latest purchase...”
“You mean...” the emperor pauses. “You mean that the Lord of Evilland will have to get another job? Again?”
“Trust me sir, I have just the thing lined up for you!” the goth intern chimes in. “To Pizza Shed!”
***
A chariot with wheels burning with supernatural fires from the pits of Hell itself comes rumbling down the cobblestone roads that lead from shopping districts to a nearby residential area – pulling it are a pair of black horses with smoking manes and massive canines that protrude from their mouths like sabers. The horse-drawn vehicle that carries the Lord Emperor Zhorg and his intern with a placard that reads “Pizza Shed” posted on the side pulls up alongside an unassuming shack with a dim light radiating from the windows near a street corner: an elderly woman in the process of crossing the street stops to gaze upon the chariot as she has never seen anything quite like it in her long lifetime – and that is the last thing she sees as the horses immediately prey upon her, consuming her flesh with glee in their glowing red eyes!
“Ha!” Lavinia scoffs from the safety of the chariot. “Serves you right grandma!”
“Well, the Lord of Evilland supposes that he at least won't have to pay for feed today...” the emperor trails off as his mind is clearly elsewhere. “These meager wages are hardly worth the effort since so much of the income is dependent upon tips and no one wants to tip The Lord of Evilland in spite of all that he does for these ingrates!”
“There, there...” Lavinia consoles her master with a pat on the shoulder. “Why don't you let me make this delivery? After all, who is going to say no to a big tip to a hot, young college chick like me?” she continues as she reaches for the container marked “Pizza Shed” in the bottom portion of the chariot's cabin.
Hot? the emperor says to himself. She's perhaps a seven at best in the book of the Lord of Evilland! This intern doesn't hold a candle to the girls of the imperial harem in terms of aesthetic beauty! But she certainly does have them beat for enthusiasm... “Ok, the Lord of Evilland will allow his minion to take this delivery!” he finally commands.
“But,” the emperor hastily adds, “how did you secure this position for the Lord of Evilland so quickly? It is almost certain that potential employers would be reluctant to hire the Lord of Evilland after the events at McBurgerprince.”
“Oh, I know the manager from high school” the intern replies. “He was on the Death Derby team back then, but he was always kind of a nerd – big into anime waifus! I just got him a limited edition Bawr Bura barracuda girl figure from that UTuub channel he likes so much: I think it's called “Hellolive” or something. At any rate, he was all too happy to hire you on after that – well, that and he's having a hard time getting delivery drivers for some reason...”
“Ok... That's... Different...” the emperor replies awkwardly to this story. “The Lord of Evilland will just remain here whilst his minion fleeces the inhabitant of the shack for tip money.”
With that, the intern gleefully takes the pizza container to the door of the dwelling, unaware of the fact that a cloaked figure is spying them from behind shack on the opposite side of the street – the mysterious figure patiently observed its target from afar, sizing up his defenses in preparation for the administration of a sudden, lethal blow. And yet no weakness were readily apparent: even now as a pizza delivery driver Lord Emperor Zhorg was fully clad in his plate male armor – common daggers and arrows would have little effect on this formidable warrior and the figure does not have access to anything that is suited to break through armor of this quality.
Suddenly a strange vibration emitted from within the dark brown cloak of the figure – this spurs her to immediately bolt to her feet in shock, causing the hood to fall: revealing the face of a female elf with long, blonde hair and blue eyes with a look of great surprise on her face. After a moment to recover her senses, she reaches into her cloak to produce a brand new Orange Istone – the latest and most costly version available on the market, as she absolutely has to have the most up-to-date consumer magitech on hand for the sake of preserving her social status if nothing else.
The female elf checks her Istone ID and sees that this call is from a trusted source, upon ducking behind a wall and activating the “answer” sphere she is greeted with the hooded face of her contact – a cloaked figure that wears a sign around his neck that reads “elf-thing.” “I now call-call the elf-thing Ethariel to convey message of great importance-great importance.” the cloaked figure rattles off in a high-pitched, raspy voice. “We-we have received word that the mercenary band of Komang the Barbarian has been seen-seen just outside of the city – we-we want you to kill-kill Komang and then we-we shall see to your reward.”
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“That's going to have to wait – I am already taking a job for another client and this target will prove difficult despite his fallen position” the elf replies. “I'm not sure is I even have a weapon that can do this job...”
“Then don't-don't go after that target” the cloaked figure replies with barely masked anger. “Kill-kill Komang before his contract with Emperor Zhorg is renegotiated!”
“Wait a moment...” the elf pauses. “I thought that Komang was all paid up by Emperor Zhorg. What happened here?”
The cloaked figure sighs in disbelief - “You really haven't heard-heard?” he queries. “Emperor Zhorg is having to renegotiate contracts after an incident involving a Dwarven princess he killed-killed – Komang needs to die-die before he is signed on once more or else he will surely be sent after us elf-things and then we all die-die.”
“That cannot be allowed!” the elf exclaims. “For the survival and purity of the elven race, I Ethariel of the National Socialist Elven Workers Party swear to protect the pure elven people from monsters like Komang! Consider this job elevated to the top of my priorities list!"
“Hail victory!” she cries out with a raised arm salute that causes her cloak to fall open – revealing mithril bracers on her forearms, a green leotard and a pair of knee-high mithril boots underneath. On her upper right arm is a blue band that has a white bolt represented as a series of line segments (one horizontal with two vertical segments on each end pointed in opposite directions) set against a circular black field.
“Yes-yes – hail vicotry...” the hooded figure on the other end replies with little enthusiasm as he fades from the interface sphere of the Istone, leaving Ethariel to her own devices. And what devices did she have? She is well ware of that fact that both Emperor Zhorg and Komang have been targets of numerous assassins before and thus far all have failed to slay these mighty warriors.
But now the wheels in the head of the elf are turning and she concocted a brilliant scheme to set her two targets against each other now that she is aware of the rift forming in their working relationship. She opens the interface of her Istone once more and searches for the contact information of the local Pizza Shed as it's now time to place an order that she believes will spell doom for her targets...
***
The Lord of Evilland and his intern appear to have taken this new job on a slow night as they haven't received a new order in over an hour – the Diomeden horses are becoming restless as they are tied to the post outside the Pizza Shed with the passengers killing time in the chariot: the Lord of Evilland just stares out towards the street weighed down with melancholy feelings while the goth intern with him plays around with some new products that connect to her Istone via the ethereal network. “These seer stones will be perfect for recording our time together” she squeals gleefully. “I can send video to my FaceTome account of all the little moments I share with my idol as we work together and deepen our bond!”
“Uh... Sure.” the emperor responds unenthusiastically. “Perhaps the Lord of Evilland would be more cheerful if those seer stones could have an impact on the financial woes that have befallen him.”
“Who knows – perhaps something we record could go viral!” the goth intern cheerfully replies. “If I can get footage of something that draws a lot of views on an ethereal network site like UTuub, that channel could get monetized as big corporations pay out tons of cash to have their ads featured there! And if there's one thing I have learned about you in the short time I have worked for the infamous Lord of Evilland, it's that all sorts of exiting things are happening to him all the time! Now it's just a question of how long it will take for the seer stones to record it and make you an overnight UTuub sensation...”
“The Lord of Evilland hopes you are correct, but it feels as though the gods have abandoned him - the Lord of Evilland has the power to slay any foe that challenges him, but not to pay his bills. Perhaps this cruel irony was foreseen by Chorneesh when he endowed the Lord of Evilland with his favor and now relishes in his misfortune...”
As the emperor contemplates the will of the gods as it pertains to his economic predicament, a heavy-set man with bushy, brown hair and glasses approaches the rear of the chariot holding an order ticket - “Ok folks, we just got a massive order – someone just called in for thirty pizzas to be delivered to the camp of Komang the Barbarian” he informs the. “I don't think I need to tell you just what a big deal this is given that you have worked closely with him before!”
“Komang?” the emperor queries. “The Lord of Evilland thought that he was out on campaign against... Oh, right.” he stops himself upon remembering the series of unfortunate events that led to this moment. “Well, the Lord of Evilland appears to be afflicted with the shame of having to serve those who once served him! The gods truly are cruel to him!”
“My lord,” Lavinia interrupts - “perhaps this is actually an opportunity for you to shine. Remember those seer stones?”
“The Lord of Evilland does not follow” the emperor states.
“The seer stones can record events – what if we record the Lord of Evilland as he delivers the pizzas?”
“The Lord of Evilland still does not follow” the emperor states once again.
“I'm saying that we can take this lemon that life has given you and turn it into lemonade – perhaps a video of the Lord of Evilland being a hard-working member of Evilland society on UTuub would boost his image with the public? Maybe even motivate his men to continue fighting for him knowing that he's sharing the same hardships that they are?”
“So...” the emperor ponders for a moment. “You mean, this could translate into the Lord of Evilland being able to exploit his forces as uncompensated labor? All the Lord of Evilland has to do is point out his own suffering and others will be inspired to work for him even without wages?”
“Bingo!” the intern exclaims. “Why do think that I stay at your side without any promise of payment? Because I believe in you!” And because you are sexy as hell! she leaves unspoken as those words go through her mind. After all, she doesn't want to embarrass herself in front of her idol and role model...
“By the gods, you are onto something! Make ready the seer stones, for we have pizzas to deliver!” the emperor commands.
“I'm glad you found some new motivation” the heavy-set manager of the Pizza shed interjects. “I will run them out to you soon – then I get to spend a little alone time with Bawr Bura...”
“You are a strange man, but the Lord of Evilland will overlook this as he has other matters to attend to...” the emperor says as he readies the reigns of his chariot. “One good thing about the hellfire chariot is that it will keep the delivery nice and warm! Now, let's garner some public sympathy to manipulate!“
***
The full moon hangs low in the sky as the burning wheels of the chariot leave scorched earth behind it as the Lord of Evilland leaves town with his cargo – the order is so massive that a cart was hitched to the vehicle before he left the Pizza Shed to carry it all! The fires of the mercenary camp if visible in the distance as the emperor turns to his intern for a final run-through of the plan.
“Alright,” Lavinia begins. “I set the seer stones to hover mode – they will follow us around the camp and record everything we do. It's very important that you be seen making deliveries to the mercenaries: be cordial, shake their hands, congratulate them for their accomplishments of slaying your enemies - make them feel appreciated! We want them eating out of your hand by the time this night is over.”
“The Lord of Evilland must now repress his true nature and be...” the emperor pauses for a moment as he summons the courage to say the word he never describes himself as being. “Sociable.”
The chariot has closed the distance and now approaches the entrance to the mercenary camp – a pair of guards in leather armor wielding spears approach the vehicle from the sides as to avoid eye contact with the Diomeden horses: they have seen first-hand what they are capable of and have no desire to become feed for livestock. “Who goes there?” one of the guards calls to the armor-clad figure driving the chariot.
“The Lord of Evilland himself graces you with his presence!” the emperor replies. “And he comes bearing a delivery from Pizza Shed! He now asks to speak with he who placed the order so that proper payment can be made.”
The guards turned to face each other – each one drawing a blank as to what to tell the emperor. “Do you know of any order from Pizza Shed?” one queries. “I have no idea” the other replies. After a brief discussion, one of the guards takes leave to report to the captain on duty. After a few minutes, a large, burly figure clad in a fur loin cloth and a headband studded with iron and carrying a broadsword on his back approaches the Lord of Evilland. Behind him are the emperor's finance minister and his foreign minister: Rorgaag the Slayer and Ogre King Grushuum respectively – both sporting a look of wonder on their faces as they clearly didn't expect to see their lord here this evening.
“You...” the emperor stammers. “What are you doing here?”
“While my lord is indisposed, someone has to see to it that the forces of Evilland continue to have the manpower to wage war” the orc finance minister replies. “We came here to renegotiate the contract with Komang here."
“Ogre King Grushuum say that he knows Komang well” the foreign miniter adds. “Ogre King Grushuum say that promises were made concerning the allocation of land and treasure for Komang so that he might establish a kingdom for himself after the war – a kingdom that would have amicable relations with Evilland as to promote defense of its borders via the creation of a buffer state between us and hostile powers, as well as economic development through trade deals that favor Evilland's interests.”
“So why have not informed the Lord of Evilland of these developments?” the emperor impatiently queries. “Why was his approval not sought?”
“Because you were preoccupied with other issues” the orc finance minister replies. “Once you become fixated on an issue, particularly one that effects you directly, it's nearly impossible to discuss anything else!”
“The Lord of Evilland is not so short sighted!” the emperor rebukes his minister before stopping to ponder the words spoken to him. “Is... Is he?”
“Look,” Lavinia interrupts. “I'm sure that the Lord of Evilland will be more than happy to discuss this matter at another time, but right now we're here because someone ordered thirty pizzas. Now, if whoever called in this order would step forward and pay for this order that would be greatly appreciated!"
The men of the camp begin to murmur among each other as questions circulate through the camp, but no one among their number admits to having ordered anything from Pizza Shed. Finally, the large, burly figure in a fur loin cloth steps forward towards the chariot.
“I, Komang, do not know who placed this orda” he bluntly states with a thick, foreign accent. “Howeva, you went through great trouble to make this delivery and thus Komang will pay for this orda.”
“Excellent!” the Lord of Evilland exclaims. “Here's the receipt for the order – sign here upon the dotted line.”
As the Lord of Evilland discussed payment with Komang, Lavinia began passing out the pizzas as the seer stones hovered around the vicinity recording the events on the ground – as of now, all appears to be going according to plan. But unbeknownst to the emperor and delivery driver, another plan is also presently afoot...
***
Just outside the camp, the elvish assassin spies the events unfolding from behind a group of saplings – she sees the Lord of Evilland speak to the legendary barbarian mercenary and now plots to instigate a battle between them: she might not have the might to bring down her targets, but she knows that she can take advantage of the weakened state of the victor in a fight between them – striking a killing blow as his defenses are down.
Now to creep forward in the tall grass she plots in her devious mind – I just need to get close enough to slay a couple of the mercenaries on the edge of the camp to start a panic. It won't be long before strings of fate wrap themselves around my quarry: binding them and delivering them to be to be slain like helpless sheep!
But even as she crept through the tall grass events were unfolding within that camp that shall render her actions moot...
***
The seer stones are floating about the camp recording the mercenaries as they feast upon the delivery from Pizza Shed – the ministers have taken their lord aside to brief him on the details of the contract negotiations over a few slices they took for themselves beside one of the roaring fires.
“So, it seems that all is well in Evilland this day” the emperor observes. “Perhaps the gods have not truly cursed him after all, but have used these events to teach him a degree of patience and humility.”
“That's one way to look at it, my lord” the orc finance minister concurs. “But the most important takeaway here is that one should never lose sight of the bigger picture – that one might put off self-gratification for the sake of accomplishing a wider-reaching goal: such as making the forging positive relations with your underlings the priority over personal profits.”
“Wait...” the emperor interrupts his minister. “What do you mean when you speak of 'personal profits' here?”
“Well...” the orc finance minister hesitates. “I noticed that you didn't pressure Komang for a tip when he paid for the order. Which is actually a good thing in the long-run...”
“No tip?” the emperor interrupts once more. “NO TIP?!?” The Lord of Evilland immediately bolts to his feet and charges across the camp in search of Komang: the Lord of Evilland will not be denied his tip!
“Komang!” the emperor bellows upon spotting him outside his tent. “What is the meaning of this? Why have you not tipped the Lord of Evilland for his delivery?”
“Because I did not place that orda” the barbarian mercenary replies. “I, Komang, agreed to pay for the orda so that you might avoid trouble with the managa of your workplace, but Komang does not tip for that he did not orda.”
“How dare you pay for the order with no tip – the Lord of Evilland will not abide this insult!” the emperor shouts with fury as he reaches for his axes. “Turn over the tip money or else face the wrath of the Lord of Evilland!”
***
As the elvish assassin reaches the edge of the camp, she was greeted with the sounds of battle – a number of the tents are ablaze as a chariot with burning wheels spreads hellfire through the cluster of dwellings. She peers from behind a supply wagon to observe the sight of an orc and an ogre standing their ground against over a dozen spear-men as a hovering seer stone records the carnage from the sky above them.
Well... the assassin ponders to herself. It seems like the battle stared without any action on my part. Now where are my targets?
As the assassin silently stalks her way through the camp, she spies a small goth girl standing in the center of a path between the tents – she is facing down a mercenary seeking passage. “You shall not pass!” she shouts at the mercenary, but he doesn't seem to take her seriously as he calmly approaches her. With a squeaky battle cry, the goth girl strikes the soldier in the face with all her might: breaking her hand upon impact with the mercenary's solid chin – she cries out in agony as the mercenary just stands there unfazed by her attack.
“Forgive me, my lord!” she shouts with tears in her eyes. “I wasn't able to serve your glory on the filed of battle today...” Without further ado, the mercenary casually pushes the goth girl out of the way: dashing her head into a cord of wood in the process – rendering her completely unconscious. With that he runs forward on the path towards an epic battle transpiring between the Lord of Evilland and Komang the Barbarian.
I suppose I should just follow that guy... the elf says to herself as she proceeds down the path...
***
The legendary warriors trade blows in the midst of a pile of fallen corpses bathed in the light of the fires of the camp – the lesser mercenaries never stood a chance of striking down the Lord of Evilland despite their superior numbers. Komang has thus far been successful in dodging and parrying the blows of the emperor, but has yet to successfully strike one of his own with massive broadsword: the duel axes of solid steel wielded by the emperor have given him the ability to parry with one hand while striking with another – a level of versatility that Komang does not have with a single-blade weapon style. The barbarian mercenary's only hope is to find an opening in the emperor's defenses and strike it with a blow capable of penetrating armor pate.
“Give it up, barbarian” the emperor taunts. “You have denied the Lord of Evilland that which belongs to him and now the only tip suitable for the services he has rendered towards you is your head!”
“Know that Komang does not surrender” the barbarian replies. “I, Komang, have slain many like you – the arrogant buffoons that hold themselves above all others tend to fall to their own hubris!”
“'Fall to their own hubris'” the emperor makes a mocking retort. “Who do you think you are to insult the Lord of Evilland like this? Nothing can save you from my wrath now!”
“Not even the serpent in your boot?” Komang questions in an off-handed manner.
“Serpent?” the emperor queries as he pauses his action to inspect the condition of his armor's boots – a distraction that allowed the barbarian enough time to send his blade sailing towards the cuirass in a slashing motion: the strike landed just underneath the emperor's arm as he flailed about in search of the serpent – creating a sizable crack in the plate on his left side as the emperor fell to the ground from the force of the blow.
“But...” the emperor stammered. “Where is the serpent?"
“I lied” the barbarian retorts before raising his broadsword once more in an attempt to land a finishing blow. As Komang steps forward to make the kill, he suddenly stops and cries out in pain – a head of one of the spears from the fallen mercenaries around them pierces his unshod foot. While the lack of armor makes the warrior more agile and better able to avoid oncoming attacks, it provides no protection whatsoever in the event that a weapon does find its mark (or simply connects as a result of pure happenstance).
Not questioning the convenience of this turn of events, the Lord of Evilland makes haste and bisects the barbarian warrior – striking his torso with both axes at once, tearing his foe in two.
“Ha!” the emperor exclaims. “Now it's time for the Lord of Evilland to collect his tip...”
***
The elven assassin bears witness to the end of the battle – as she looks on, she observes the Lord of Evilland strike down the barbarian warrior.
I suppose that's what you get for fighting without any armor at all... she silently contemplates. While she does fight in an outfit that leaves her bare legs and shoulders exposed, she recognizes the value in having proper boots and bracers to guard against sudden attacks against the lower extremities or to provide an extra parrying surface.
And yet the battle between the two warriors seems to have accomplished the intended purpose – the assassin sees her remaining target behead the fallen warrior and proceed to raise the head in victory with his left hand: exposing the crack in the armor that the barbarian inflicted on him earlier.
Looks like a peach of a shot... the assassin observes to herself before raising her short bow to bear – the head of the arrow knocked alongside the bow being coated being coated with the extract of the ebon lily: a flower that grows only in the marshes of her homeland that is know to be fatally toxic to humans – even if the arrow doesn't achieve much penetration in the cracked armor of her target, even a small wound inflicted by the poisoned head would be sufficient to condemn the emperor to a painful death by exsanguination...
***
“Ugh...” the goth intern moans as she rises from the ground she fell upon – she looks upon her right hand to see her ulna protruding out from the forearm, rendering it useless. Furthermore, her vision is obscured by blood pouring from her forehead from a splinter-filled wound. And yet she still desires nothing more than to find her master.
In the distance she still hears the sounds of battle between the Lord of Evilland and the barbarian Komang. I must... she attempts to form a coherent thought. I must get to him. He... he will know what to do...
The goth girl who was delivering pizzas just hours earlier now struggles to follow a straight path towards the raging duel of titans – woefully under-prepared for this event. One of her seer stones linked to her Istone now hovers above her as she leans upon the shaft of a broken spear for support as she slowly makes her way to her master in hope of finding some direction in this chaos.
After what seems like an eternity, the intern finds her master in the distance raising the head of his fallen enemy in victory. “My lord!” she calls out to him. “I am so sorry... I... I was completely useless...” she stammers out an apology for her inability to perform in this circumstance. But before her lord could issue any kind of reply, the goth intern is suddenly struck in the chest by an object: it appears to have a long, wooden shaft with a tail of feathers at the end – that's all she could note about the object as she once again lost consciousness, this time passing on from this world as it struck her vitals which resulted in an instantaneous death.
***
Oh fuck! the elven assassin silently exclaims to herself. Just as she released the arrow, the goth girl called out to her lord – creating a momentary distraction causing her target to lower his arms and turn to face her. Instead of her arrow finding its mark, it glances off the pauldron of the armor and struck the goth girl instead!
Within moments, the hunter becomes the prey – the emperor turns towards the assassin's hidden position and immediately throws his axe towards it. Thanks to her lighting quick reflexes and her form that's uninhibited by excess weight, she is able to dodge the incoming weapon but loses a sizable lock of her flowing, blonde hair in the process as the weapon sails by her head.
This is not a fight I can win she says to herself as she immediately takes off running – only by bolting into the thicket of the nearby forest is she able to escape from the wrath of the Lord of Evilland, but not before impaling her bare upper right leg on a jagged tree branch. Injured and limping, she makes her way through the woods towards the nearest settlement: hoping that no great beast of the wood is around to smell her blood...
***
Y'AI'NG'NGAH,
YOG-SOTHOTH
H'EE-L'GEB
F'AI THRODOG
UAAAH
Once again these ancient words reverberate through the ritual chamber – the essential salts of the intern spread out over a blood pentagram on the stone alter reconstitute her physical form once again. And yet again the goth girl rises from the alter with a sudden gasp as the eldritch energies invoked to restore her to the world of the living recede back to their mysterious origins.
“The Lord of Evilland welcomes you back, minion” the emperor declares whilst standing beside his orc finance minister. “It seems that the Lord of Evilland owes you a debt of gratitude for your services on the day he was reduced to working for Pizza Shed.”
“But...” the goth girl stammers as she rises from the alter. “But my lord, I was useless! I couldn't even take down one mercenary in a fight! I am a complete failure and worthy of nothing but your condemnation!” she continues on as she breaks down sobbing, prostrating herself before her lord. “It's fitting that you revive me from death to face the most horrifying punishment you can visit on me!”
“Oh stop it!” the emperor barks at the goth intern as he throws her a robe to cover herself. “The Lord of Evilland is not going to punish you!”
“But why?” the goth girl questions as she dries her tears and throws on the robe her master gave to her. “What did I do to deserve anything but but your wrath?”
“If I might explain,” the orc finance minister interrupts, “it seems that your seer stones recorded information that was invaluable to our intelligence units: data gather from those recordings helped identify the location of an assassin that was stalking through the camp – in fact, it's now believed that the call to Pizza Shed was a ruse to get Lord Emperor Zhorg out there so that he might fall victim to an assassination plot. In short, without your seer stones we might never have uncovered this plot.”
“Yes,” the emoperor interjects - “and more importantly, the footage of the battle has gone viral! The Lord of Evilland now has corporate sponsorship and can now easily pay off his new Orange MacStone!”
“My lord...” the intern whispers as her eyes once again fill with tears. “I live and die at your pleasure!” she declares as she throws herself at the feet of the emperor, embracing them as she sobs uncontrollably with joy.
“You...” the emperor pauses. “You genuinely mean that? You don't merely say that because you fear the terrible wrath of the Lord of Evilland?”
“Oh yes!” the goth intern exclaims. “My life is all yours to dispose of as you see fit! I only want to be closer to you and be worthy of the title of your faithful slave!”
“Then come, minion!” the emperor proclaims after a few moments to process what had just taken place. “The Lord of Evilland has a meeting to attend! Rorgaag the Slayer wishes to discuss the possibility of generating revenue via raising tariffs on imported consumer goods like those “Hellolive” figures your old classmate loves so much! Not that the Lord of Evilland understands that attraction to females from those foreign cartoons, mind you...” he continues as they leave the ritual chamber towards the throne room for the meeting, hoping that everyone has forgotten about how he possesses a copy of “Hunnypow” on his MacStone...