The Economic Woes of the Lord of Evilland
Epic #4 – Beach Resort of Burrowing Death
The Lord of Evilland takes pause, seated atop a slab of rubble from a building destroyed in a siege – his armor coated in the blood of slain enemies and his head bowed towards the ground. He looks up to see his forces marching Amazon captives down a nearby road in chains: clad only in shackles, they are to be sold as slaves at local markets or offered as premium sacrifices – as their traditions forbid younger warriors from copulation and breeding until they have achieved significant renown in battle, the tech priests of Virgin-mobil will have their pick among them to bring to the temples of eldritch gods of such horrifying repute that most common folk of the realms of Evilland dare not speak their names.
Such plunder taken from the province of New Themiscyra and the thrill of battle would typically fill the emperor with much joy and elation, but not this day – all he can dwell upon is the shame that his own blood had brought upon him: not since the day he was betrayed by Miina many long years past had he felt this empty in spite of the great fortunes that befell him after each act of treachery.
Miina... Zonja... he silently ponders. Why must you take the thrill of victory from the Lord of Evilland? What is the point of conquering when those you wish to share it with don't have the fortitude to stand up and fight the conquerorer instead of stabbing him in the back? Gods damn them!
“My Lord, we believe that we found her” the voice of the orc finance minister interrupts the pondering of the emperor once lost in thought. “Her caretakers attempted to hide the infant princess in a basket near the coastline, but I personally discovered their plans and slew them” he continues as he presents the wicker container. “So what shall we do with her? She is of your blood, so she would probably make a fine military leader with the right training. Then again, she could be seen as a potential usurper to your throne due to her mother's legacy as well as the fact that she's the only surviving member of the Amazon nobility.”
The Lord of Evilland listens to his minister, but does not reply – he simply reaches for the basket and removes the cloth covering the princess before taking the infant in his hands: he stares into the eyes of the child as she immediately begins to cry in terror at the sight of her grandfather – a yellow trail of urine pouring to the ground as she kicks and screams for help from her now-deceased caretakers.
“Awww...” the goth intern chimes in as she approaches from the emperor's side. “She's so cute when she's terrified! Maybe you can make into everything that you wanted your daughter to be...”
With that statement, the Lord of Evilland recalled his other offspring – Ivanik the Bloody, Vlad the Beheader, Varissa the Red: those he considers true sons and daughters of his lineage – all of whom had met their end in single-combat before their father honorably, all of whom were celebrated by him with great feasts and much wine toasted to their memories upon their deaths! As the offspring of the Lord of Evilland should!
But looking into the face of the infant he sees nothing of the sort – just a reminder of acts of his own offspring in a child that bore the face of a traitor to all that he ever stood for...
“This thing...” the emperor pauses. “It repulses the Lord of Evilland. She is too much like her mother. Too much like Miina.”
“Miina?” Lavinia questions. “I don't believe that you mentioned her before...”
“She is long dead” the emperor replies. “And yet she is the reason the Lord of Evilland now is who he is... But enough of that tale of misery.” he finishes his reminiscent musings. “This thing is nothing but garbage and the Lord of Evilland would have you dispose of it.”
“Really?” the goth intern queries with excitement in her voice. “I get to be a real part of this atrocity? OH! EM! GEE! This is sooo awesome!”
“Congratulations, you are now a real partner in the emperor's favorite pastime” the orc finance minister remarks with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And how would you preform your assigned task? Simply stabbing the child through the heart? Or perhaps your want to go full-on goblin and devour its flesh? Or maybe bash its brains in?” he continues with a mocking tone. “Show us what a real bad ass you are with this task!”
“Well...” the goth intern pauses. “I... Never actually killed anyone before. Maybe I should just keep it simple...” she says aloud to herself as she looks around her for potential options. She spies a ledge of a small hill overlooking the road upon which the Amazon captives are being marched to their fates – and right then she is inspired to an act of carnage that would most certainly bring joy to her master and idol: immediately she takes the infant and runs up the hill, dangles her over the ledge in front of the marching captives by her leg and calls out to them - “see your princess here! With her dies all hope of your people ever becoming a real nation again!” With that dire prophecy, she hurls the child from the ledge onto the rocks below – leaving little more than a red smear on the point of impact.
“Ha!” she exclaims. “I did it! I actually did it! Look my lord – your will is done!” she continues to gloat. “Did I do good? Did I make you happy again?”
“I suppose now you want a special title to commemorate your first kill?” the orc minister casually remarks as he comes up behind the intern. “Perhaps 'baby killer?' Yeah, that will really put fear into the hearts of your foes...” he continues with more ridicule.
“Oooh... 'Baby killer!'” the intern ponders aloud. “I think that sounds really cool!” she exclaims as the orc minister smacks his own forehead in frustration at her apparent inability to recognize mockery. “What about you, my lord? Does that have a nice ring to it?” she calls down from the hilltop.
“Happy is the one who seizes the infants and dashes them against the stones” the emperor says quietly to himself. “And yet the Lord of Evilland has no joy this day – just a sense of emptiness...” With that, the emperor just continues to sit upon the rubble and observe the marching captives wail in gut-wrenching sorrow at the sight of the death of the last hope of their people: knowing that there are now none left who shall avenge their coming deaths upon the sacrificial alters or their suffering beneath a whip – the last remnant of their heritage dies with their princess as the Lord of Evilland completes his genocide of the Amazons.
“Did you see that, my lord? I'm now welcome into your Legions of Despair as an honorary member with the title of 'Baby Killer!'” Lavinia boasts to the emperor of her ironic title given by the orc finance minister as he rolls his eyes at the intern beside her. “Surely there's a smile on your face beneath that helm of yours now, right my lord?”
“The Lord of Evilland...” the emperor pauses. “He... He does not know what the feels right now...”
“Well, feelings aside...” the orc minister interrupts, “we need to head back to the command tent and meet with the rest of the council to discuss the long-term ramifications of this latest campaign – there are issues related to resettlement of territory that's now depopulated, division of the spoils of taken, the impact on the price of virgins that these captives will have... And that reminds me, the Interior minister has been lobbied by Virgin-Mobil to create a new sports league with funds from our coffers: they call it the NSL or National Sacrifice League – they told him that virgin sacrifice events are a big draw for crowds out in virgin country and that it can be a huge source of tax revenue if they are given the proper investment capital to build some temple complexes in the center of major cities.”
“This... This is all more than the Lord of Evilland can handle right now” the emperor says with a long sigh. “He isn't in the right mindset to deal with this – he commands you to take charge of these affairs as his steward while he... Just... Figures out some things that weigh heavy on his mind.”
“Of course, my lord” the orc minister replies. Which is what I usually end up doing anyway... he says silently to himself as he leaves the presence of the emperor.
“So...” Lavinia begins awkwardly. “What's... What's troubling you now, my lord? I thought that this campaign of pure carnage and revenge would improve your mood, but it doesn't seem to be having that effect. Tell your friend over here how she can help” she says as she sits beside the emotionally-numbed overlord.
“The Lord of Evilland doesn't know what to do – it seems as though he has lost the ability to feel anything other than crushing despair and exhaustion” the emperor states bluntly. “He has gone through so many highs and lows over the past few months and now no longer knows how to deal with this bizarre reality he finds himself in – one in which he must work for wages, slay conspirators with elves, deal with his own kin betraying all he stands for; it's all too much to process...”
“It sounds to me like you need a vacation!” Lavinia chimes in. “I know that the budget is a bit tight here with so much of the spoils being allocated towards settling debts, paying soldiers and making repairs to your fortress but I think we can pull it off if we split the costs with my roomies.”
“Not them again...” the emperor sighs. “The Lord of Evilland saw fit to return them to you from the realm of death, but he still despises them and would very much love to return them to the graves from whence he raised them.”
“And I am truly grateful to my lord for that” Lavinia praises her lord as she places her hand on his shoulder. “And I believe that they are too! Admittedly you guys didn't get off on the right foot, but this could be a second chance to get to know them on better terms – be a good sport and let them show you their appreciation to you. Don't you trust me?”
“Fine then – the Lord of Evilland will trust you” the emperor resigns from his position of belligerence without any argument. “So, where would my minion suggest that the Lord of Evilland retreat to for quiet contemplation?”
“You just leave that to me!” the goth intern exclaims as the Amazon captives continue to cry out in despair behind her over the slain infant – begging the soldiers marching them to their fates for a quick death. “I believe that I know just the place for you!”
***
The Lord of Evilland sets foot upon the shoreline of pink sands – his armor removed except for the helm he never parts with, revealing pale, pasty skin over a heavily-muscled frame clad in a pair of red swim trunks with white cross symbols on the sides. “Is this really necessary?” the emperor questions towards a small tent on the beach.
“We need to pay for the hotel and we're just a little short of cash” the voice of the goth intern answers from inside the tent just before she emerges clad in a red one-piece swimsuit bearing the same white cross symbol on the front. “So, how do I look?” she asks as she strikes a modeling pose.
“The Lord of Evilland believes you look ridiculous – as he presently does” the frustrated emperor responds. “Surely you don't expect him to swim into the oceans just to save some peasant who brought his fate upon himself, do you?”
“What's the matter? You don't know how to swim? I can teach you right now if you like...” the goth intern answers before being cut off.
“The Lord of Evilland has forded the waters of the River Staanx in the lands far north near the reality nexus in pursuit of his rival Archenon the Eternally Blessed of Darkness in full armor – its magical waters nearly draining him of his soul before he reached the other shore to face the would-be usurper in mortal combat immediately upon emerging from the depths. A brief dip in the ocean poses no risk to the Lord of Evilland.”
“Well, that's good to hear – but I think we really should have tested your skills in the water before hiring you” a new voice chimed in from behind the emperor: one from a young man clad in the same trunks as the emperor with an athletic build and bronzed body – his hair as orange is the rays of the sun and his eyes concealed by heavily-tinted shades. “But since we can't seem to get too many people to even apply for the lifeguard position these days, we take anyone we can get and are more than happy to have you aboard” he continues as he extends his fist to the goth intern for a “bump” greeting.
“My lord, this is Brett – he was on the cheer squad with me back in school and now lives the simple life here in this little town of Delapore” the goth intern explains as she meets his “bump” with one of her own. “He was kind enough to vouch for us – he tells me that this job is usually pretty chill, so you'll have plenty of time to just relax and soak up sun on the beach as we earn the cash to pay for lodgings.”
“Yeah – most beach-goers are smart enough not to do anything terribly risky” Brett adds. “This town is founded on a hilltop overlooking an inlet that makes a great natural harbor for ships – keeping out most of the more dangerous waves and rip tides: the majority of swimmers prefer to stay in that safe zone and away from the docks to the South end of the shore. But you likely won't see to many ships until later in the day as the fishermen usually don't come in til sundown.”
“Hmm...” the emperor muses. “Then why does this place have so few applicants for lifeguards?” he asks, realizing that this all sounds too good to be true.
“Well...” Brett pauses. “There are rumors of elves hiding in caves beneath the hills that take over the beaches in the twilight hours – but I think these are nothing but the imaginings of party-goers that had a little too much to drink. They still have a lot of people scared though...”
“Elves? Here?” the emperor queries. “Ridiculous – this place is far from their homeland.”
“I said the same thing – and yet people aren't venturing out to the beach like they used to on account of those stories” Brett replies. “At any rate, my shift is ending – you take control of the station. Peace out dudes!”
“See? This isn't so bad!” Lavinia says reassuringly as her old squad mate heads towards the beachfront stores. “Now, Rach and Audrey should be coming along shortly – just try to be nice to them and you'll get through this day just fine!”
“Wonderful...” the emperor sighs as he climbs the ladder towards the lifeguard chair.
***
A small schooner loaded with barrels of cargo sails through the entrance of the inlet of Delapore – the crew composed of curious beings with hunched-over backs, long tails and signs about their necks that read “elf-thing” which complement their odd masks with humanoid faces and pointed ears. At the forward section of the vessel sits Ethariel of the National Socialist Elven Workers Party: she has her bow placed directly in front of her as she rests her chin upon her folded hands over its top section as she eyes a visible scar on her thigh from her encounter with the Lord of Evilland through the corner of her eye – a mark of shame that has made her into a laughing stock among her own people because of the nature of the circumstance in which she received this wound.
The crew of the schooner chitter among themselves about the escort that their patrons designated for them - “I hear this one was stabbed by a tree-tree as she ran away from combat” one crew member quietly whispers to another with a barely-controlled snicker. “They say she killed Komang, but I don't-don't believe it for a second” another chimes in with a near-silent giggle. “I hear-hear that she's only with us because the party can't spare anyone else for the delivery” yet another whisper adds to the chorus of doubt concerning the ability of the botched assassin.
Even as the crew attempts to keep their criticisms secret from her, Ethariel's keen elven ears pick up their whispers and make her aware of their mockery – and yet she keeps silent as she has no real answer to their criticisms: she indeed failed her race that day – failed elves like them when she ran from their oppressor instead of facing him. Perhaps it would have been better had I just died that day and be spared this humiliation – how I hope to the gods of my ancestors for a chance to redeem myself in the eyes of my fellow elves to end my shame! she silently wished to herself as she listened to the chatter of the crew.
It's presently about four hours after the noonday sun had peaked and it would still be a couple of hours before they make landfall at their destination – the disgraced elf decides to produce her spyglass and inspect the beach for a good spot to deliver the cargo: some place close to the docks, but not so close to any place where there would be many witnesses during the twilight hours – the cargo they come bearing must remain a closely guarded secret. As she makes a sweep of the beach, she catches sight of a familiar figure – one that bears the helm of the Lord of Evilland!
It can't be! she exclaims silently as she spies the figure in the Lifeguard tower. And he doesn't have his armor! This is truly the opportunity that the gods have afforded me for redemption!
“Hurry up and make landfall!” the assassin shouts to the crew. “I need to be on that beach right now!”
“We shall not-not approach land until twilight” one of the crew speaks up as he rises to his feet – a hunched figure significantly larger than the rest of the crew clad in red armor with protruding spikes upon which preserved thumbs were impaled, Squeek Thumb-taker captains the schooner. “This cargo is too highly valued-valued to risk taking in during broad daylight – we wait-wait for the fishing ships to come in and sneak-sneak in with them.”
“But the gods have given me a second chance!” the assassin retorts. “Just a few miles away lies my quarry and his defenses are down – this is not an opportunity that will present itself again!”
“And you are ordered to stay-stay with the cargo until the drop is made, elf-thing” the captain replies. “You may hunt-hunt for prey all you want once delivery is complete.”
The assassin can't really argue with her captain – she is already on unstable terms with her superiors and certainly doesn't wish to bear the responsibility of failing to assist elven resistance in Evilland: it is their plan to equip elven minorities in hiding to destabilize local public order – diverting troops away from the front lines so that elven forces might at last gain an upper hand in this war which has solidified along the borders of the respective lands.
With a sign of exasperation, she returns to her seated position – I must follow my orders for the sake of all elf-kind she muses to herself. For we are the master race and we must prevail! Even elves like these who have been mutated by exposure to the dangerous conditions of underground life are superior to those gods damn orcs and goblins and humans that dominate the wretched realms of Evilland! Perhaps our alchemists and eugenicists can help breed this deformities out of their line once this conflict is over and return them to their former glory...
With these thoughts, she waits for sundown and the chance to correct her failure...
***
The Lord of Evilland remains seated upon the Lifeguard tower as his intern's roommates approach from behind – exchanging greetings with the goth intern before pitching umbrellas and unfurling beach towels upon the sands next to the tower. There they place their belongings and unpack supplies: at this time the goth intern produces a bottle of sunscreen and begins applying it to herself when she remembers that her master's skin has no base tan due to the fact that he is typically clad in his armor wherever he goes – but now he's exposed to the elements.
“Hey, my lord!” she calls up to the tower above her. “Did you put on any sunscreen?”
“The Lord of Evilland has no need to this nonsense!” the emperor bellows from his seat.
“You don't have any shade up there!” the intern retorts. “You will have some very unpleasant burns tonight if you don't have some protection now – come down and I'll apply it!”
With a moan of discontent, the emperor descends from the tower and plops his form down upon one of the towels laid out by the girls. “Just make it quick” he demands as he reaches for a basket of edibles they brought.
Audrey takes notice of the emperor placing his hands upon the goodies she brought for the trip – clad in black bikini briefs, a black tube top with red text that reads “My dick is bigger” and a pair of shades, she hastily raises herself up off the beach towel she's reclined upon to give warning to the emperor. “Hey!” she exclaims with urgency. “Whatever you do, don't touch my Warreos!”
“That's all you ever say!” the emperor bellows in response. “Well, that and rants about things like 'the plight of the poor' or 'the need for modernized infrastructure' and what-not. You would think that you could show just a little gratitude to he who has seen fit to bring you back from the realm of the dead!”
“Well, maybe if you paid more attention to those issues our society wouldn't be wasting all its resources on your stupid wars and there wouldn't have been a need to restore us from death!” the punk girl retorts with anger. “You are the very embodiment of toxic masculinity in our culture and I wonder if there's anything about you that might be considered a redeeming quality!”
“Now, now people...” a gentle voice chimes in as Rach slowly lifts herself from her own towel beneath the umbrellas. “We're on vacation and we agreed to not talk politics til we get home, remember?”
“Well, at least the Lord of Evilland can be free from the rantings of this know-nothing college student...” the emperor murmurs as Lavinia begins applying sunscreen to her master's back.
“You three enjoy each others' company – I must go embrace the salt-laden sea and the gentle winds of mother ocean!” the hippie girl sings out as she pops a couple of blotter tabs onto her tongue and removes her sundress to go streaking on the beach.
“Gods damn hippie...” the emperor remarks as he watches Rach run off into the waves under the influence of potent hallucinogens. “If she drowns, the Lord of Evilland won't restore her to life a second time as she'll probably waste her new life on some other drug-induced misadventure.”
“Well, I guess you'll just have to save her before then” Lavinia chides her master as she rubs the lotion into his skin. “Yeah, a real man like you with those hard, rippling, sexy muscles... can...” she trails off as her nose begins to bleed as she becomes more fixated on the emperor's well-built form.
“Uh... You ok Lav?” the punk girl interrupts as the crimson liquid flows freely from the goth intern's nostrils with her master completely oblivious to the situation.
“Yes... Yes... I'm just fine” the goth intern mumbles as she continues to massage the rippling form of her master while consuming the eye candy before her, enjoying the sensations of his body while mentally indulging in all manner of perverse fantasies concerning other manners in how she might enjoy his form.
“Are you finished yet?” the emperor queries. “The Lord of Evilland finds nothing that he cares for in this basket – it's mostly hippie food in here! Everything but those damn Warreos your friend loves so much...”
“Oh, I am finished – unless you need me to apply lotion to your front as well?” Lavinia answers with a question, hoping that she might be able to cop a feel of her master's washboard abs as well as his rippling back.
“Ugh...” Audrey groans in disgust. “Just get a room, fuck each other and get it over with already!”
“What? I don't want to have relations with my master!” Lavinia cries out in denial of the blatantly obvious. “I just really look up to him and find him to be the ideal male figure that everyone in this kingdom needs to emulate and serve! I would never have inappropriate relations with him though – unless he commanded me to, that is, as I'm a total slave to his will...” she continues on with more than a few hints of repressed desire coming through in her voice.
“And nor should you – the Lord of Evilland has his own harem for things of that nature” the emperor adds before rising from the beach towel to climb the tower again. “Now leave the Lord of Evilland to his thoughts as he keeps watch for drowning fools.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Aww...” Lavinia moans at being so utterly rejected – well... she silently muses to herself at least I still have my fantasies. My lord most certainly won't mind if I think about him in the shower tonight... her thoughts continue as Audrey looks on: noticing how the flow of blood from her nostrils is only increasing as she sports a naughty look on her blushing face.
“Seriously Lav,” the punk girl chimes in - “he's not into you. Let it go already” she finishes as she produces a magazine with the title “Loud Hair Dyes Today” from inside the basket and lays down again on her beach towel.
At last, some peace and quiet the emperor ponders to himself atop the lifeguard station. Perhaps the goth intern was right and this really is what the Lord of Evilland needs to get his mind right again – a place with no distractions: nothing but the blue waters of the ocean, the sands of the shoreline, a drowning hippie... “Wait a minute!” he exclaims upon that last thought – rubbing the dullness from his eyes as he takes a second look out to the waters: what he barely noticed in his state of daydreaming becomes immediately clear to him – the hippie girl has apparently lost all sense of herself and is now drifting off towards the the inlet and out to the open sea.
“Ha!” the emperor laughs with great pleasure. “It seems like your hippie friend is getting taken by her beloved 'mother ocean' right now! If only the Lord of Evilland had an appropriate snack to consume so he might properly enjoy this moment...” he trails off as he extends his hand down towards Audrey with a beckoning motion.
“You are not getting the Warreos!” she angrily retorts as she throws down her magazine. “Besides, shouldn't you be rushing out there to save her? It is your job after all...”
“Yeah, we gotta do something” Lavinia agrees as she grabs a life ring and runs towards the waves.
“Ugh...” the emperor grumbles with disgust. “Who would have thought that the Lord of Evilland would have to save anyone – a gods damn hippie at that – as a lifeguard! Fine, I will join you!” he shouts as he jumps down from the tower.
In that moment, time seems to slow to a crawl as Audrey observes the emperor take to flight towards the water – seeing in clear detail the pulse of his rippling muscles as he runs along the beach with the sunlight glistening off his skin as he dives into the waves. After staring at this sight for what seemed like hours to her, she finally snaps back to reality as the emperor heads off into the distance.
“Woah!” she exclaims to herself - “he's hot! Yeah, he's an egotistical maniac that routinely butchers people for the slightest of provocations, but he's honest-to-gods hot!” she continues to rant to no one in particular. “I finally understand what Lav sees in him and... I feel terrible for it...”
***
The schooner continues to wait by the inlet for the coming of sunset – the elven assassin growing ever more impatient knowing that her prey is only a few miles away on the shoreline: completely unaware of her presence and not prepared for battle – an opportunity like this may never be presented to her again, and yet she can't leave the ship! All she can do is furiously tap her feet against the floor of the ship and gaze towards the shore with earnest anticipation until she spots an unusual sight from the corner of her eye: a nude girl lying on her back in the middle of the waves heading out towards the inlet – and following her in hot pursuit are two figures, one wearing the unmistakable helm of the Lord of Evilland himself!
“Turn this ship thirty degrees starboard!” she shouts to the crew. “And ready your bows – we have an incoming threat!”
“What-what is it now?” the captain queries with skepticism in his voice. “There is nothing-nothing there but some swimmers!”
“One of them is the emperor himself, a mere two hundred yards off the starboard bow – surely the great Squeek Thumb-taker won't let an opportunity like this pass him by. Right?”
“Very well” the captain agrees - “his death-death will add to my glory! With no real risk-risk to myself!”
In but a matter of moments the sails are adjusted to set a new course for the hapless swimmers – the decks that were just minutes ago devoid of movement are now bustling with activity as the crew clamor for their weapons and prepare to engage with the Lord of Evilland himself.
***
By the lifeguard tower Audrey continues watch over her oblivious roommate as she drifts further from shore as the two lifeguards are in pursuit – she catches notice of a small vessel, probably some fishermen, changing course and heading towards the drifting hippie. With this she breathes a small sigh of relief as she hears a voice behind her.
“Hey, where are the two new hires?” the voice inquires, startling Audrey into spinning around to meet the source of those words.
“Oh, it's you Brett” she says with relief in her voice. “I thought you were off duty...”
“I am” he replies. “But, admittedly, I forgot to mention something earlier – I've been more than a little bit spaced out on a new batch of hash that just came in from Zothicka.”
“Zothickan hash?” Audrey exclaims. “That some really expensive shit! How does a lifeguard afford that?” she asks as, off in the distance behind her, a stream of arrows begins pouring out of the schooner towards the swimmers.
“One doesn't on lifeguard scratch,” Brett replies, “but I just got back in the good graces of my folks and they are sending me an allowance again. I think they figured out that I'm not really into running businesses or participating in all those 'high society' events they love so much, so they just want to make sure I stay out trouble and just do what I love doing: living the beach life” he concludes just as the schooner in the distance picks up speed to attempt to catch the fleeing swimmers: one of the arrows found its mark in Lavinia's shoulder and the emperor now swims for dear life carrying both his intern and the hippie girl in tow towards what he hopes is safety.
“Well, I am glad you finally patched things up with the family” Audrey interrupts, “but what was it that you came here to tell us?”
“Oh yeah, there's a party at my bungalow tomorrow night” Brett continues with his original purpose in visiting the post after hours. “We don't get too many big name celebrities around here and I thought it might be nice to have the Lord of Evilland show up to kick off the party: make a little speech, kill the ceremonial virgin, drink some booze with the guests – you know, normal party guest host stuff.”
“Yeah – I don't see why he would object to that...” she pauses. “But he's a little busy right now – Rach kinda hit the blotter tabs a little hard and now Lav and the emperor are trying to save her ass out there” she concludes as she turns back out towards to the sea. “Huh... I could have sworn they were right there just a couple minutes ago...” she says awkwardly upon noticing that neither the lifeguards nor the ship were in the distance any longer.
“Well, I'm sure they are just fine” Brett reassures her. “Just give them my message, ok?”
“I will, but...” Audrey pauses once more.
“Is there something else?” Brett asks.
“I... You know how I'm always critical of the emperor and his policies and find him just so fucking contemptable as a person – a part of me wishes that he would just die!” she rants on about her loathings. “And yet, earlier today I began to notice things about him – things that Lav sees in him! And Lav has horrible taste in guys! Does this mean that I'm a bad person? That I'm beginning to develop tastes like hers?”
“HA HA HA!” Brett laughs from the bottom of his being. “You always thought waaaay to much about things – you just need to chill out and let things just show themselves to you” he continues as he pats her on the shoulder.
“But he's a monster! I can't possibly think anything positive about this beast of a man without having a dirty soul myself, right?” she questions further – trying to disassociate her feelings from her sense of ethics.
“Girl, you just need to learn to see the good in people – open your mind a bit and you might find that even someone like the emperor has positive traits” Brett reassures her. “Now just pass along my message, I gotta go make some refreshments for the party tomorrow.
“I will...” Audrey finally replies with a sigh as Brett leaves the beach. With Brett heading back towards the town, Audrey turns back towards the sea – looking for her companions that appear to have vanished.
Just where are you? she ponders to herself in silence as, at last, concern begins to set in...
***
A sudden burst of force comes through a small tidal pool of an underwater cave as the emperor carries his two charges with him to relative safety – it is only by sheer luck that he spotted this opportunity as he desperately dived to escape the barrage of arrows from the ship.
“'Oh look, it's a ship' you said” the emperor mockingly berates his intern - “'we're saved' you said. And now here you are with an arrow in your shoulder and stuck in this cave.”
“Well forgive me for not realizing that a fishing vessel would be full of people who want us dead!” the goth intern replies in frustration. “This was supposed to be a beach vacation, not a war zone!”
“It would be better if this were a war zone” the emperor remarks - “at least then the Lord of Evilland would have been prepared with his armor and weapons. Let's see those bastards pull that nonsense when the Lord of Evilland is ready for battle!”
“Enough fretting, my heroic unicorn rescuer” the hippie chimes in - “just be grateful for the gifts that Mother Earth has given us here: a cave of refuge from the viscious sea serpent with plenty of air and beautiful formations of crystals in the stones – a perfect place of meditation and reconnection with the spirits of nature!”
“Oh Rach” Lavinia laments as she comes towards her best friend and roommate - “you are still high as fuck, aren't you? Come here... AHHH!” she screams in pain as she attempts to lift the stoned hippie into her arms. “That's right... Arrow in shoulder...”
“Must the Lord of Evilland fix everything here?” the annoyed emperor impatiently queried. “Hold still...” he pauses as he take the arrow by the exposed head poking out from the anterior portion of the shoulder and gives it a quick jerk: immediately prying the wooden missile free from the wound – and unleashing a torrent of blood.
“Oh gods...” Lavinia panics. “I'm gonna die! Again! Oh gods! Oh gods!” she continues to rant hysterically as she flails about on the floor of the cave until she finally brushes up against a metal object with a glass center that seemed to be full of some viscous fluid. “What's that?”
The emperor calmly walks over to the where Lavinia lays and reaches down towards the object – with but a flick of a small, metal switch connected to a flint sparker, the wick of the lamp was lit with a strange green flame. “This should be of some help...” he mumbles as he removes the glass cover and places the flame right against the injury sustained by the arrow: the goth intern screams with pain and the lamp was extinguished by the blood pouring from the wound, but the bleeding did stop.
“Hey, mister heroic unicorn – where did you get the light?” the stoned hippie asks. “It was so pretty the way it just caused all the rocks here to glow with pretty rainbows that just encompassed every fiber of my being!”
“Gods dammit – will you shut up?” the emperor retorts in anger, ready to bash the hippie chick's face into the back of her skull – after all, had she not made the impulsive decision to go skinny dipping under the influence of hallucinogens this entire situation could have been avoided.
“Wait a minute!” Lavinia interrupts – “she does have a point here. Just where did that light come from? If someone brought that light down here, maybe there's other supplies we can use around here. Or perhaps even other people who are willing to help!”
“Hmm...” the Lord of Evilland sat in silence as he mumbled some things under his breath. “Though he is loathe to admit it, perhaps the Lord of Evilland might be in need of outside assistance this day. Come! Let us now search the cave for signs of life!
“Yay! A treasure hunt with a unicorn!” the hippie shouts with glee.
“Ugh!” the emperor grunts with frustration. “Is there any way to sober up the naked hippie here?”
***
After what seems like hours, the trio of unlikely explorers follow the winding pathways of the underwater cave – coming across some simple tools strewn about rather haphazardly among the stones: rusty chisels, worn pick hammers, old hooks for pulley systems and even a couple of lamps which now light the way of the trio – by all appearances, this cave was once the site of a excavation of some sort.
“So, what are the odds that there's anyone still down in this dank, humid hole?” the emperor queries. “It's not as though the tools left here are of recent make...”
“Yeah, and they all seem very small too” the goth intern adds. “Like all the workers here had very small hands...”
“And with small hands they likely had very small...” the hippie begins.
“The Lord of Evilland forbids you from finishing that thought!” the emperor rebukes her whilst finishing the thought in his own min. Well, being small in that area is not something that the Lord of Evilland need concern himself with...
“Heh heh” Lavinia giggles at the thought of certain small things as she finished the thought for herself. “Well, regardless of how 'small' they are I would still welcome their assistance right now – it's strange, but I can almost hear them working right now...”
“Wait...” the emperor pauses. “The Lord of Evilland hears something too! It's like the clanging of metal and rock!”
“We're saved by miners with tiny...” the hippie shouts before suddenly being cut off. “Do not say another word you tie-die loving freak!” the emperor rebukes her as he suddenly covers her mouth, only for the hippie to respond with a small toot from below that smelled of bean sprouts.
“Ugh!” the emperor grunts with disgust. “Did you just fart at the Lord of Evilland? He should tear you apart for this insult!”
“So sorry mister unicorn” the hippie whispers. “I have irritable bowels that get a little active when I'm nervous...”
“Just plug up your ass, hippie!” the frustrated emperor commands the stoned streaker before he turns his back to her so that he might follow the sound of work in the distance.
***
The trio of hapless explorers follow the sounds of excavation work through the twists and turns of a tunnel network that becomes less defined by natural features like stalagmites and and rocky outcroppings and more defined by artificial features: wooden bracers supporting ceilings, torches embedded into rock walls, lines of track laid out for carts and finally a small, wooden door – just behind it the sound of workmen is coming through loudly.
The Lord of Evilland grabs hold of the iron ring handle and pulls the door open with a solid yanking motion – on the other side is a series of wooden platforms supporting workmen that have long tails, hunched-over backs covered in fur, pointed rubber ears and masks with signs around their necks that read “elf-thing.”
“What in all the hells is this?” the emperor queries. “Why are there elves in the kingdom of the Lord of Evilland?”
“Yeah” the goth intern agrees with her master. “And very funny-looking elves at that...”
With this line of questioning from our hapless explorers, one of the workers turns from his duties to see the trio by the door before he shouts in a high-pitched panic “Man-things! Man-things!” as he darts in the opposite direction – scurrying away from them as fast as possible. Following his lead, the other workers follow suit and run as though their very lives depend upon it.
“Oh, the poor things seem afraid of us...” the hippie laments - “come back here my furry friends! We mean no harm to you! We just need a little help...” she continues as she wanders off after the “elves” that ran from them just before she trips over a wooden barrel the workers left behind.
“Rach!” Lavinia calls after her friend - “we don't know these people, you can't just approach them like this! And you are way too high too... Wait...” she pauses as she notices the barrel that the hippie tripped over: the text written on it reads “boom-boom powder.”
“Uh... My lord, do you know what this would be doing here?” the intern questions of her master. “I don't think this should be here...”
“The Lord of Evilland can only guess what these elven scum are planning – all he knows is that they are worthy of nothing but death!” the emperor rants. “If only he had his weapons and armor this would be a simply task, but now the Lord of Evilland must improvise!” he continues as he collects some of the abandoned tools the workers left behind: a pick hammer, a leather satchel of hand tools, some wooden planks he hastily assembles into something resembling a shield – with these items he prepares a set of make-shift battle armor and prepares to face the “elves” in mortal combat.
“Come now, minion! Let us take the fight to these elven rodents!” the emperor bellows as he marches off in pursuit of the “elves.”
***
In the cave near the docks, Ethariel sits confidently on the barrels of cargo her crew had delivered in the last hour – elated in knowing that her station in the National Socialist Elven Workers Party is about to be raised: not only did she see to it that these vital war supplies reach their destination, she has finally slain the Lord of Evilland himself – she personally witnessed as the emperor disappeared beneath the waves under a hail of arrows from her superior elven crew of archers along with his companions.
As her crew takes the cargo into the caves, the assassin ponders what will be next for her – will she be made a party boss? Perhaps she will be granted a position within the secret police of the party: allowing her to engage in prestigious, yet relatively low-risk, missions to disrupt dissent within the party. Or maybe she will become a bodyguard for the High Leader himself! With the Lord of Evilland dead the sky is the limit!
Her contemplation is interrupted by the commotion of workers rising up out of the caves in panic - “Man-things! Man-things!” they shout in terror as they gather in the tunnel space around her. The schooner captain climbs atop the cargo and lets out a horrifying cry that is an odd cross between a a shriek and a roar to bring the ruckus to a complete halt. “No more running-running you fools!” Squeek Thumbtaker bellows from above the crowd. “Open the armories, grab-grab your arms and fall into formations! If you do not-not prepare for battle, Squeek will take your thumbs for his trophy rack!”
With this blunt and threatening speech, the throng of “elves” falls back into line – order is restored as the workers ready themselves to confront the intruders as Squeek himself motions for the elven assassin to meet him behind a small alcove. Ethariel cautiously follows him away from the crowd with a sinking feeling in her gut: perhaps she hasn't been as successful in her mission as she had believed.
“Could this sighting of man-things be at all related to those fools-fools we 'killed' in the harbor?” he queries of the assassin. “Could you have been-been mistaken about the fate of the one you considered your prey? What does he know-know about the cargo?”
“Hey, I know just as much as you do!” she retorts. “I want your plot to destroy Delapore to succeed as much as you do and until just moments ago was convinced that the Lord of Evilland had perished beneath the waves! But even if he did make it somehow, he's probably still unarmed and vulnerable – your people need only keep him distracted while I move in for the kill.”
“You?” Squeek incredulously queries of the assassin. “You-you had your chance to destroy the emperor – now is my-my time of glory! You-you remain here with the cargo as Squeek deals with this intrusion if you can even do that...”
With this exchange, the captain joins the workers to had down into the tunnels – leaving the elven assassin to stew in her failure and anger...
***
The massive throng of workers – numbering in the hundreds – descends into the caverns from whence they came now armed with rusty spears and daggers taken from the armory: the captain moving in their midst directing them to conduct sweeps of the branching tunnels one-by-one until the intruders are found and slain.
But the search is indeed a very short one since the intruders are making no effort to hide from the “elves” - the Lord of Evilland, wielding his make-shift war gear, lunges headlong into the ranks of workers swinging a pick hammer: slaying over a dozen of them in mere seconds and putting many others into a panicked flight once more – these are not disciplined warriors like the mercenaries of Kommang or the Amazons that the Lord of Evilland has recently slain, but rather simple-minded slaves with no real training in the arts of combat to speak of.
Coming up behind the emperor and his slaughter spree of “elves” is his faithful minion attempting to steer her drug-addled streaker friend away from the dangers of the battle with only the green flame of an oil lamp to light the path. Thus far the way has been clear for them to advance as most of the workers prefer to run rather than fight to the death against the only warrior in the group, but their luck came to a halt once one member of the throng, clad in red armor covered in preserved thumbs, stepped forward: wielding a pair of curved blades, he bellows out a challenge - “Do not take me-me for a coward like these fools-fools! My glory will be great once I take your thumbs-thumbs!”
Without any further banter, the two warriors collided with each other – the one covered in thumb trophies quickly takes an upper hand in the fight as he effortlessly cleaves through the pick hammer the emperor used as his primary weapon, but the emperor responded by parrying the blades with his make-shift shield of timbers long enough to reach into his satchel of tools: producing a chisel to use as a dagger to pierce the left breast of the cuirass of the red armor of his foe with nothing but brute strength – once the chisel found its mark the emperor punched it deeper into the would, eliciting a cry of pain from his opponent that echoes through the caves.
The “elven” captain makes an attempt to strike with his blades again, but they become stuck deep in the wooden planks of the make-shift shield – producing a stalemate as the two titans wrestled with each other upon rickety staircase leading towards the tunnel entrances. But the “elven” captain saw opportunity to lower his frame with his naturally-hunched back and take the legs of the emperor out from beneath him by throwing all his mass into the emperor's center of gravity: the two of them fell to the bottom of the staircase – dislodging the make-shift shield and the curved blades from the emperor's left arm.
At the bottom of the staircase, the emperor reached into his satchel once more and produced another chisel – but this time he is blocked as the “elven” captain found the shield and curved blades first. He places all his weight on the wood in an attempt to impale the fallen emperor: the Lord of Evilland is able to hold the blades at bay, but the strength of his arms is slowly giving out as the blades move closer to his exposed chest – the tip just touching the skin to the point where blood is drawn.
The “elven” captain chitters with glee as he senses impending victory – he makes one final push to put down the emperor, a strange object flies right by his head: the missile misses its intended target and ricochets off the stone wall. The captain swiftly turns his head to see the elven assassin with bow drawn at the top of the staircase.
“What in the hells-hells?” Squeek bellows angrily up the steps. “You seek to take glory from me-me?”
“This is my kill! The gods gave me this second chance and I won't let you steal it from me!” the elven assassin replies as she reaches for another arrow from her quiver.
“You-you overstep your station, elf-thing! Back down now-now!” Squeek threatens the assassin while facing her directly – taking his eyes off his opponent as the emperor pulls yet one more chisel from his satchel: this one being flung straight towards the head of the elven assassin – injuring her eye as the blunt end makes impact and causing her to release her arrow wildly towards the ceiling as she stumbles to her knees in pain.
As the arrow ricochets across the cave ceiling, the emperor reaches for the neck of the “elven” captain puts him in a choke hold – the captain struggles, but is unable to break the hold as the emperor reaches for the “elf-thing” sign around his neck: proceeding to bludgeon him to death with it as the arrow continues to dart across the cave.
***
As all the chaos unfolds around her, the stoned hippie sees bright lights bouncing all around her as the heroic unicorn grapples with a furry creature covered in hands as her friend tries to lead her out of the way of the scuffle – but she is less concerned with the battle around her than with the tiny, singing gnats around her: they sing a song of worlds of infinite supplies of food within the hair of the furry elves and how paradise is here – that within the wooden barrels the elves brought with them lies the way in which a new universe shall be made in which they will thrive for all eternity!
With much curiosity of the gnats' song, she kneels next to barrel to see the text warp into many combinations and change into a multitude of indescribable colors – becoming a puzzle that the stoned streaker is determined to solve. But before she could make any headway, her friend quickly pulls her away from the barrel just before one of the bouncing lights strikes her hand: both girls stumble as the lamp Lavinia held falls to the ground near the barrel, but miraculously landed both upright and intact just behind the stoned hippie.
Lavinia picks herself up off the ground and struggles to reach the lantern just as the nervous hippie has another toot from her bowels – this one blows a gust of flammable gas into the flame of the lamp, which in turn ignites sawdust around the crude, wooden beams around the barrels: Lavinia takes the overwhelming force of the blast as the contents of the barrel are lit filling her body with wooden timbers that cause liquid rainbows to pour from the wounds as she collapses onto the hippie – saving her from sustaining anything greater than a few minor wounds.
***
“Gods damn you, hippie!” the emperor bellows in rage. “If you were not thought of so highly by the only friend he has in the world, the Lord of Evilland would slay you right here for your folly!”
“I'm sorry mister unicorn” the stoned hippie replies. “I just can't control...”
“Save it!” the emperor interrupts her as he hurriedly picks up the mutilated body of his minion - “she will be revived at your expense later, now come on!” he bellows as as throws the hippie over his shoulder as well and begins sprinting towards the cave entrance as the cave collapses all around them: the constant bouncing movement causing her bowels to loosen yet again and the hippie lets forth several torrents of gases into the face of her rescuer as he curses her all the way to the entrance of the cave.
***
The elven assassin pants with exhaustion as she wades in the shallows of the docks – where the schooner she came in on once was before the collapse of the caves brought down the pier and adjacent warehouses that sat atop the tunnel network: all around her floats the bodies of many elves whose struggle against the forces of Evilland has come to an end this day with their demise.
She pulls herself onto the remains of one of the docks and looks out to sea – the sun is beginning to set and the fishermen will return to see their place of refuge destroyed, which will lead to a mob in search of whoever is responsible to this destruction followed by a lynching. Being an elf this far from home, her presence will raise a lot of questions that she would rather not answer: not that she would be given the opportunity to do so – elves tend to be strung up on sight in this region..
Before making a hasty retreat, she gazes down at the bodies of her fellow elves – swearing to them to one day avenge their deaths and bring their dream of an elven world into fruition when she notices something off: it seems like one of the bodies has a face underneath the face she saw as elven – she carefully reaches down to take a closer look and sees the elven face peel away. What is revealed is a pointed nose, whiskers and buck teeth in the front with large, rounded ears hidden beneath the mask!
“Wait just a minute...” she pauses. “You... You're not elves!”
***
The Lord of Evilland marches northwards along the beach – carrying with him the body of his minion and the hippie who just can't bring her bowels to calm themselves: filling his face with the noxious, overpowering scent of bean sprouts as he brings her to safetly. Off in the distance, a lone figure comes running at full speed towards them – calling out to them “”Lav, Rach – what happened?”
As Audrey's form comes into view in the twilight, the Lord of Evilland stops where he is and places the bodies down in the sand. “That's it” he huffs. “The Lord of Evilland is spent and needs rest” he continues before allowing himself to fall into the sand.
“What the hell is going on?” Audrey queries with concern in her voice. “you just disappeared, then the docks just collapsed on themselves and now you're here with... Oh gods! What happened to Lav?” she shouts in panic as she sees the mutilated body of her friend.
“It's a long, awful tale – filled with elves, underwater caves and a stoned hippie girl who can't stop blowing gas from her ass...” the emperor groans with exhaustion. “But your hippie friend is indeed saved, which is what you wanted in the first place, yes? Enjoy it while you can...”
“But Lav...” Audrey begins as the emperor interrupts her. “She will be restored – this isn't the first time this minion met with death. But not now. The Lord of Evilland just needs a break.”
“Ok – let me just get some stuff from the station.” she says as she heads towards the lifeguard post – shortly afterwards returning with some beach towels to wrap the hippie streaker in and the basket of refreshments.
“I'm here because of the heroic unicorn!” the hippie girl exclaims as her friend swathes her in a beach towel. “And now I feel like I'm being surrounded by a million fuzzy caterpillars...” she trails off as she lies down on the sands to sleep off the effects of the hallucinogens she ingested.
“The Lord of Evilland requires sustenance – and hippie food will not suffice!” the emperor barks at the punk girl. “Go forth and get something that he considers edible!”
“You are an arrogant son of a bitch” she rebukes the emperor, “but... you actually did pretty good today and I think that you deserve these...” she continues as she reaches into the basket – pulling out her pack of Warreos.
“Really?” the emperors questions this sudden gesture from one so hostile towards everything he stands for - “what's your angle?”
“No angle” she replies. “You are still a horrible person, but I do owe you a debt of gratitude – like Brett said, I just need to recognize the good in people. Even people like you” she continues as she takes a seat beside the emperor and extends the pack of Warreos to him.
“Hm... You are a know-nothing college girl, but the Lord of Evilland will accept the gesture for what it's worth” he replies as he takes the cookies from her hands and begins feasting on the chocolate and creme pieces of heaven.
“Go ahead – enjoy yourself 'mister heroic unicorn'...” she jests. “Once you are linked to the destruction of the docks, I doubt that the Delapore board of tourism will allow you to remain employed as a lifeguard here.”
“You're probably right” the emperor agrees with the punk girl. “So how shall he pay the bill for the hotel?”
“Don't worry about that” the punk girl replies. “There's quite a few pencil-necked virgins around here that would be willing to spend ten gold for a handy.”
“That's absolutely disgusting...” the emperor retorts as he watches the sunset in silence – enjoying the calm before the impending storm now that the fishing vessels are coming back in...