<body>In the middle of the plains, looking slightly out of place, the dark castle of Lord Felix loomed.
To say it was horrible would be right, in a way. It was horribly ugly, but not very frightening.
Sure, it was blackish-blue with lots of towers, spiny decorations, and an entrance covered in skulls (Fake ones, though). But there was something missing, perhaps it was size. Or that it shouldn’t look so square. The overall effect was a small, nice hotel disguised as a dark castle.
Within it, Lord Felix was being angry. Dark Lords usually are.
He matched the castle perfectly.
He wore a black suit of armour, a dark cloak and a black helmet. With spikes on it. And skulls.
And then, because he was so small, he looked like a wandering pile of metal. With a cloak.
He was speaking to his most loyal servant, the goblin Jurglarr.
-“Aren’t I the most fearsome Dark Lord you know?”
-“Yes, milord. You’re the only Dark Lord I know.”
-“And am I not holding my realm in an iron grip of terror?”
Jurglarr went silent for a while, pondering the fact that the realm of Felix consisted of only three small villages, then answered.
-“Yes, milord.”
-“And haven’t I got a ravening horde of orcs?”
-“No, milord. You’ve got fifty-three goblins and a troll.”
-“And a Dark Sorcerer, mind you.
-“Not a very good one, though, but…”
-“Shut up, goblin!”
-“Yes, milord.”
-“So why won’t no hero come to fight me?”
-“I don’t know. Perhaps they’re afraid?”
-“Heroes aren’t afraid, you idiot! That’s what makes them heroes!”
-“Then maybe there are no heroes in your realm?”
-“That’s it, goblin! We have no heroes in the realm! Brilliant!”
-“Is that a good thing, milord?”, the goblin asked nervously.
-“Not really, but now I know how to make a hero challenge me!”
-“How, milord?”
-“You, my dear Jurglarr, will recruit one!”
There is no point in being a Dark Lord if there are no heroes around. Everybody knows that..
Felix had been studying Dark Lording for a while now, and he was pretty sure that sending Jurglarr to recruit a hero was a good idea. Because then, Jurglarr would also be a traitor. And traitors are always a good part of any Dark Lords plan.
So… Jurglarr was going to the far off village of Enclare. Felix wasn’t sure if Enclare belonged to his kingdom, but he had collected taxes from it. Once.
Well, the only thing to do now was to plan how to make things a little harder for this hero.
Their side: One traitorous goblin, one hero.
Our side: Fifty-two goblins, one troll, one sorcerer.
Seemed like a fair fight, knowing heroes.
But a fair fight wouldn’t be enough. Felix knew that. Well, that would be to plan later.
He took a map from a box at his feet.
The hero would have to cross Dribble Forest, and then all the plains and fields. It would be a little more difficult to first go into the swamp and the cave, though.
Otherwise it would be far too easy.
Are fifty-two goblins enough to patrol that area effectively? Answer: No…
As already pointed out, Felix’ castle was not very impressive. It was quite small, and too square. But it looked like he had tried to imitate the castle that the sorcerer now gazed at through his crystal ball. Or rather, half of the crystal ball.
Now that was a real dark castle.
It was not that he was unhappy with Felix but, well, it would certainly be more fun to work for a real Dark Lord.
A goblin suddenly appeared in the crystal ball.
The sorcerer zoomed in.
-“Hey! That’s Arrgie! He works here!”
He kept gazing into the crystal ball and saw Arrgie deliver an envelope to the guard orc. Then he left.
The crystal ball went blank.
Evil sorcerers should be speaking to themselves. That makes it easier for the heroes.
He was one of the best in Speaking Aloud to Oneself back at Dark Necromancy Corp.
-“So, Felix has got some sort of plan which he will not reveal to me, eh?”
The sorcerer snapped his fingers and got a new picture in the crystal ball. This time it was of the guard orc that had got the message. He saw him walk through dark, damp corridors. The corridors in Felix’ castle were all dry, though black, but the walls were wooden and there were no nice torches.
Then, the orc seemed to enter a large chamber with a throne in, and deliver the message to someone on it… He couldn’t see who it was.
The sorcerer began adjusting the crystal ball, and it spun around the throne to reveal the face of…
Jurglarr watched the village suspiciously. Not that he was suspicious, but well, goblins were supposed to be suspicious of villages. He was in disguise. It is quite hard to disguise a goblin,
because few humans have long, pointed ears, and a similar noses, and they don’t have huge eyes, either.
Jurglarr had managed to disguise quite well, but it was still very obvious he was a goblin. He’d chosen the usual robe-with-hood disguise. Though his nose showed very well, the rest was quite well hidden.
He looked exactly like a disguised goblin, in every aspect.
Well, it was better than being just a goblin.
One thing about mysterious people is that people never notice them. Even if they are as mysterious as possible, people oddly won’t notice them anyway. Probably the theory of “Somebody else’s problem”.
Jurglarr might as well have marched in juggling three sabres and holding a sign saying “Hello, I am a mysterious goblin, and I am an evil traitor.”
That would be impossible to do, though. You can’t hold a sign and juggle with three sabres at the same time, right?
At least not without cutting yourself badly.
You have probably guessed, by now, where somebody so obviously mysterious would begin to look.
That’s right, in the darkest corner of the tavern. He sneaked through the town as silent as only a goblin can sneak, and slipped in to a tavern. All good taverns have nice signs with names outside, and this one was obviously called “The Pony standing on its rear legs.”
As usually, the tavern was full of people. Jurglarr saw no more people sitting in corners looking mysterious apart from him.
And so, he started waiting. Nobody in the tavern looked like a hero in particular.
So, he just asked the barkeep.
Lord Felix stared at Jurglarr’s letter.
-“What does he mean by “Not evil enough?”
-“It’s quite obvious, milord. He’s found a hero, but the hero in question doesn’t think you’re evil enough to hate you.”
-“But I’ve been collecting taxes!”
-“If the truth is to be told, you don’t demand much more than the former ruler.”
-“I’ve got no goblins!”
-“I’m afraid that’s no reason to smite you.”
-“Dammit, sorcerer. You’re saying I should be more evil?”
-“Yes, milord.”
-“Fine then. You may leave, but tell the troll to come here.”
-“Yes, milord.”
Lord Felix watched as the sorcerer left. Probably quite a good sorcerer, the trouble with him was that he never managed to complete his spells, causing half fireballs, zombies only partially alive and curses affecting half a person.
Felix had hired him from Dark Necromancy corp., and he feared the day the guarantee period ended.
-“You called, master?”
Ah, yes. Felix was very happy with the troll. An eight feet tall, strong warrior.
He had a big axe, too.
And he was stupid. Proper trolls should be stupid, mainly because the smart ones tend to ask “Hey, why should I kill this guy anyway?” and then not kill him and instead kill the Dark Lord.
-“I want you to collect more taxes.”
-“What?”
-“Take more money from the people?”
-“Oh.”
-“And also demand to have the most beautiful maiden from each village.”
-“Um, yes, sir.”
Perhaps a bit stereotypical, Felix thought. But then, he was a Dark Lord.
Jurglarr was satisfied with himself.
The village of Enclare was the most faraway village in Felix’ realm.
It wasn’t even in the realm, but hey, the hero didn’t need to know that.
He was the best hero possible, big, strong, and as intelligent as a slug.
His name was Thor. Even the name was perfect.
The only problem was that he was too peaceful. He didn’t want to smite Lord Felix and free his people.
But he was happy with Jurglarr, mainly because he had bought a drink for him, and the old story about abandoning Lord Felix and joining the good guys and Seeing The Light had worked. Thor trusted Jurglarr as much as he trusted himself.
-“Jurglarr?”
-“Yes, Thor?”
-“Who is this Lord Felix?”
-“Er… Um.. He is very evil…”
-“Is he?”
-“Yes, and he collects taxes, um…”
Jurglarr was sweating. He had to make Lord Felix appear very evil.
He concentrated, then finally said:
-“…He collected some here once, I believe. Very evil.”
-“Is he, like, our ruler?”
-“I think so, yes.”
-“Like, a king?”
-“Yes. I suppose you could say so, though he is a Dark Lord.”
-“Can you tell me one thing, Jurglarr?”
-“Yes, Thor?”
-“What does a king do?”
Jurglarr looked at Thor.
Maybe a little too stupid.
“Dear fellow Dark Lord,
I know I seem quite pitiful sending you this letter, but I really need your help.
You see, I am for the first time being challenged by a hero, and all I have is fifty-two goblins, one troll, and a Dark Sorcerer (With only very little of the guarantee period left). I would be very thankful if I could borrow some of your orcs. They would be used in defeating the hero and then raiding and pillaging the surroundings (They can keep anything they steal).
Your friend
Dark Lord Felix
The Bronze Field
(Dark Lord tasks performed between 8.00 AM and 6.00 PM, with break for lunch between 12.00 and 12.30.)”
-“I wonder if he is aware that I am not only a Dark Lord but the Dark Lord?”
-“He has got guts, your majesty. Still, it is a smart idea, and it hasn’t been done before, borrowing troops from another lord.”
-“True. And there’s something about that chap that I like. Remember when I had just started this business? I had nothing but some orcs and that magical ring.”
-“No, your majesty. I wasn’t working here back then.”
-“And then the trouble with that short guy and his band of heroes? Isn’t it amusing that he thought he’d actually killed me?”
-“Yes, your majesty. Everybody knows the Dark Lord always gets away.”
-“Anyway, send some orcs to this Felix, five hundred should do. He’ll need them.
And I will, in a way. I’m not getting younger, you know. We need young Dark Lords if the tradition is going to survive.”
-“As you wish, your majesty”
The Dark Lord, so ancient that people had forgotten his name (Though he was sure it began with an S), leaned back in his armchair. He wasn’t very terrifying anymore.
In fact, he’d got a pipe and started smoking.
Technically, he ruled a very large area, but people seldom obeyed him and some didn’t even know of him.
It wasn’t really that fun anymore.
Not without the elves.
He contemplated his empire. All grass and trees now. He could remember when it was grey and black.
He saw the orcs march off. His army was much bigger than that, but this troop still felt impressive, in a way.
He blew his pipe and an elegant puff of smoke flew through the window.
Not without the elves.
An eagle flew over the forest, its eyes scanning the trees and the small track running far below it.
Well, at least it looked like an eagle. Upon closer examination, however, you could see it was actually some sort of weird cross between an eagle and a human. It had a beak, but its eyes were human; the wings had fingers on the ends and one leg was completely human, the other at least had talons. It was all covered in feathers, but they weren’t placed cleverly; they looked more as if the thing had been rolled in tar and feathers. It flapped its wings very unprofessionally, and if it was a normal bird it would have made an ass out of itself.
A thing like this shouldn’t be able to fly, but it somehow managed to.
Its thoughts went “Fly. Gaze. Fly. Gaze. I am a bird. Fly. Gaze. Do not think about the fact that I should actually be falling. Fly. Gaze. Oh, bloody hell. Fly. Think like an eagle. Gaze. Gaze. Fly, gaze. I am an eagle. I am not a sorcerer, I am an eagle. Fly. Gaze. I am an… What’s that on the road there?”
The eagle-thing dived. The point of flying is not to hit the ground. However, when you have already begun aiming at it, it’s really damn hard to avoid. The eagle-thing fell.
The troll was approaching Enclare now. He was weighed down with gold and crops, dragging it behind him in a large cart. And the stupid maidens were sitting on it, too. They had been very angry when they heard they had to leave, and each of them had a large trunk containing clothes and other stuff.
The troll had decided he didn’t like maidens.
They were going through Dribble Forest now.
It was called so because of the constant dripping of water from the pine trees.
Even in dry weather, it dripped. When raining, there was water everywhere.
It rained. The troll liked that.
It was nice and cool. Clouds hid the sun.
The maidens were complaining about it, but hey, he didn’t care. He had only been told to bring them to the castle, not to be some sort of servant.
They weren’t really that beautiful. Just being the most beautiful in a small village of 40 people or so doesn’t have to mean you’re extremely beautiful.
The troll whistled to himself.
-“I’m getting completely soaked!”
-“The water’s seeping into my trunk! Hello? Troll? Oh, this is horrible!”
-“Look at this dress! It was almost new!”
The troll just kept whistling. He was wet too, but that doesn’t have to be bad. It depends on how you look at it.
A good rain will get you clean, and it’s much more nice than hot sun, at least if you’re pulling a cart.
-“What does your Dark Lord want us for?”
-“He says you’re part of this big plan he has, you see.”
-“Does the plan include being dry?”
-“Don’t know.”
-“What’s he going to do?”
-“Don’t know.”
-“Should we be afraid?”
-“Don’t know.”
-“Would it be a good idea to run away?”
-“Don’t know…”
One of the girls jumped of the cart and began running on the muddy track.
-“Oh dear” the troll said, “You two stay here, all right?”
He began running after her. The water splashed under his heavy feet. He couldn’t see her, but knew she was in front of her. She would surely not be stupid enough to leave the track, would she?
The track, by the way, wasn’t more than mud now. It is really hard to run on mud, especially when you’re an extremely large and extremely heavy troll. For each step, he sunk knee-deep in the mud.
Trolls are probably one of evolution’s triumphs. Practically nothing will stop them, and usually the thing that does stop them is a sword held by a hero. A really good hero, that would be, because trolls are damn good at self-defence. So a little mud wouldn’t stop him.
Any clever person would have figured out, by now, that the girl had left the track. But the troll wasn’t clever.
He kept running, branches slapping him in the face and mud splashing around his feet.
Now that was a sight that would inspire fear in anyone, the mud-stained troll, with bits of trees stuck on him, carrying a large axe which he frantically waved.
He wasn’t afraid, he wasn’t angry. He simply ran.
And then, something hit him hard on the head with a thump.
He stopped, looking very sheepish and surprised. Then, very slowly, he fell over and landed in the mud with a splash.
Felix looked at his army. Some of your orcs, he’d written. He had no idea that “some” meant “Five hundred”. He looked at the letter one of the orcs had brought.
Dear lord felix
The dark lord is answering your pitiful question. He has felt mercy for you, and hereby he will let you borrow these orcs.
Instructions:
Feed daily with any kind of meat.
Raiding and pillaging will keep your orcs happy!
Will not need a great lot of care.
For commanding your army of orcs, please speak to their leader, grashnik.
Armed with sabres and shields.
No assembly required.
Comes with free magical shield for leader.
Hates elves, dryads and other forest beings.
Please refrain from enemies with “orcsbane” weapons, since these will upset the troop.
Have fun with your own troop of orcs!
Signed
The Dark Lord Company
The orcs were all ready to listen to his command. Felix looked at them. A nasty gang of orcs.
This looked like a good day.
-“Your first order, orcs, is: Raid and pillage the villages in the neighbourhood!”
As one orc, they shouted out their answer:
-“Yes, milord!”
Perhaps not what orcs usually shouted but oh, he really loved those words.
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