Credit goes to Phillips for inspiring this story.

Keep kicking ass.


The Dark Tower stood on the horizon. A part of it withered, as did the rest as the blackness swallowing its construction began to shiver off, revealing a desolate building that was ruined from the inside out, with numerous cracks and dents in a load of dried sheet and metal. The Tower was once the all-powerful, leading force of evil in the world, but with the death of its Overlord, Minions and underlings fled the area and so did the spirits of the hundreds of spells the Overlord possessed. Evil energy sanctified, and yet much still lingering.

But none of this mattered, because from the ashes of this horrible, albeit in a reverse sense amazing and beautiful defeat, a new story and a new Great Evil was about to arise. His story, one of betrayal by the ones he trusted, and revenge on a world that offered no sympathy to those that only wished to exist. What would he do with this power? Would he glorify evil in all he did, destroying all in his way as he controlled the masses from his citadel? Or would he fall, fail, and continue the endless cycle of rise and fall that the Overlords of old had fallen into?

This question bothered a hideous old man, sitting atop the hills overlooking the Tower as evil was expunged from the surrounding area. He sighed, remembering the task he was given as the Master of Minion Spawns, the sole present task of outlasting civilization for the next ten years in wait and discomfort before the next Overlord could be summoned from the jaws of hell. His name was Gnarl, an aged Minion general for many years since the last Overlord and even his predecessors, was racked with grief when he'd first seen his Master cast downward into hell. This last Overlord was powerful, even by the standards set up by the legendary First. He had succeded in not only destroying his successor but the heroes who had abandoned him. That one was a vengeful sort as well, as Gnarl recalled. He'd gone so far as to purge the tower of every minion with his own hands, save himself and Jester, and his mistress after their betrayal regarding his predecessor. The old minion still felt the ghosts of the burns of when he'd been dunked into the forge by the foot. Oh yes, he'd been an evil one alright, and while he'd calmed down after a few years and ended his attempts on his life, the old man was still weary of the master's wrath. Jester...Well, the pain had driven Jester mad.

But that was ten long years ago, an entire decade of he and twenty minions, now reduced to a hearty trio plus one, all with their own personal names. He, Gubbin, Mouldy, and Giblet had less than a hot tear to shed for the abandoned place, still flickering with subdued evil energy, a kind of moldy, useless force that could little power a diseased skeleton puppy than an entire army. His claws itched against each other as he ordered the other Minions to move with him, descending the foothill to a stoney ledge.

To the unadvised adventurer, the Tower was an impossible to reach island, guarded by whirlpools that would tear any ship that got too near to shreds. And even if you, by some miracle, were able to get to the island, the Tower was still inaccessible due to the two mile long moat of molten lava. Then there was the thousand foot climb that made its way up into the clouds themselves. Not only that, the tower itself existed in all dimensions, touched everyplane yet none of them at all, and hidden from prying eyes. The only reason anyone ever sought it out was when an Overlord was occupying it and even then they only wanted to try their hand at defeating him. But Gnarl knew magic, or as the fleshlings of this plane called it jutsu, that would allow all four of them to move into the surviving raptures of the Tower, where they're next devious champion awaited their summoning. He raised his hands and muttered a few Minion words and a yellow-white light broke from the earth and carried them into the tower.

The next thing any of them knew, they were all standing in the Spawning Pits, which just next door housed the Graveyard of Overlords who'd ruled over this Tower. Gnarl sighed with displeasure as he saw that many of the coffins had been smashed open and ransacked, worse yet some missing in their enitrity. The heroes must have furthered their extermination of the lurking volatile evil forces lingering in this place. It would have been a dreadful sight, but the graveyard was...decadent. Gnarl snorted as he saw there were no bodies, no bones, nothing he could use to resurrect someone to take over as the successor of the tower. This presented him with a problem. Never before had there been a time where no available body could be used as a proper vessel for evil.

Nonetheless, He mused as he made his way to a barren wall. Evil always finds a way...

Running his hand along the bricks of the wall. He found the correct one and pushed it inward, revealing a small, secret, minion sized room. One that Gnarl had not accessed since he had first taken up the mantle of Minion Master. In the room was a small pool of silvery liquid. Giblet attempted to touch it only to be shoved out of the room by the old minion who promply slammed the door shut. Ignoring their whines and grunting Gnarl gazed into the pool and channeled a bit of his evil essence into the liquid. With a shine of crimson light, the liquid cleared and showed Gnarl images of people, various candidates in this plane that could fulfill the role of Overlord. Gnarl stared into the pool trying to find the perfect successor, someone strong with plenty of healthy ambition and malice. And a decision was reached, the images he was shown revealed a distant river where two preteen fleshlings were quarreling with powerful showcases of jutsu. There he found the perfect successor. A fleshling who's powers rivaled the previous Overlord without even trying. The malice within his soul was amazing and the ambition...Oh yes, you will do nicely...


This fleshling was full of surprises, as Gnarl soon discovered. When they'd reached him he was lying by the riverbank with a hole in his lung. The first night in the tower as they placed him in a coffin and enchanted it with healing properties, Gnarl had expected him to not wake up for at least one human year, if at all. Yet, when Giblet checked on him the next day, most of the wound was already healed, and he'd gone through quite a few changes through the night. His once blond hair now a bit more orange and possessed red highlights and tips. His three odd birthmarks became scars giving him a feral appearance similar to a wolf or a fox.

What an interesting fleshling...Gnarl thought as he resealed the coffin and left the new Overlord to soak in the darkness as was the custom. He knew the laws of bringing a new line of Overlords into the tower. One must allow the fleshling to soak in the evil energies and become corrupted by the darkness present, otherwise they could have had a repeat of that Traitorus Overlady, Aribeth. He shuddered at the thought, no Minion Master should have had to go through that...


Darkness... All around him there was only darkness...He couldn't move. His body was far too weak to try. But having a blade of lightning shoved through your heart has that effect on people. He was laying somewhere uncomfortable wioth very little space around him. His feet could feel stone pressing against them, like a coffin. Which lead to another thing...Was he even alive? Not likely. An attack like that would have guaranteed his death...What a fool he'd been, thinking he could ever be loved in that village. He'd been naive. Naive and stupid.

And now here he lay. Uncertain if he was either dead or alive...

He began to hear noises, a clamoring of sound that grew closer and louder. He could hear high pitched giggles of laughter and the sound of stone grinding on stone as light began to shine on him. He could only close his eyes at the brightness of it. When he reopened his eyes, in the glare and blurred images, he saw a group of gleaming yellow eyes connected to imp-like faces. Had he had the strength, he have screamed.

"Here!" One shouted as it was pushed to the side by a older one.

"Rub some acid in his eyes!" He ordered. "That'll freshen him up!"

As one can imagine this only served to panic him further. Was he in hell? Had the villagers been right when they told him that's where he'd be going? Fear became anger as he thought of them and newfound strength entered him as he willed his body to move.

"Rise! Rise Sire!" And he did move, yes, and his joints popped and muscles ached as he pulled himself from the small stone casket, but he moved with determination, a will to make the people who caused him pain suffer. And when he entered into the dim light, the image of a blond teenage boy was made visible. He stood around five four and was well muscled. His hair was long, falling down his neck and his body had far outgrown his clothes which had torn in several places. Most interesting were his crimson eyes with pupils slitted. He looked angry, and he was. God had fucked him his entire life and then sent him to hell...Well bring it on motherfuckers. He could take anything they could dish out and give back twice as much!

He looked around the room he was in. It appeared to be some sort of crypt and there were several open stone coffins just like the one he'd been sleeping in, though they looked much worse than the one he'd just escaped.

The older minion tilted his head seeing the odd expression on the new Master's face. Pure hatred and rage, he hadn't seen that in a long, long time. How refreshing. He almost felt himself regurgitate some form of inner joy, the potential in this Overlord was visible through his first few movements. Even veteran Overlords weren't to attempt standing or much movement at all with the injuries he'd received, that nasty hole he'd had in his chest, not that he was a healer or so much as capable of easing the pain, but then again, this Overlord wasn't the "usual" breed of Evil to begin with. He was the first of a new breed, wqith new capablities that were to be put to the test. It was going to be an interesting few years, watching him work his way to reigning over whatever plane or planes he declared himself soverign over. "It's good to see you up and about Master. When we saw that hole in your chest, some of the other minions thought you were a dead man."

The blond blinked and stared at the old imp. Master...Is it a reference to the Kyuubi? "Where..." He coughed. His voice was raspy and weak, as though he hadn't used it in some time. "Where am I? Who...Who are you?"

The imp gave him a grin. "This is your Dark Tower, Master. And I am Gnarl, devoted servant of darkness and master minion of your forces." He chewed his lip a bit. "Well, what's left of them, anyway." He turned and began walking down the hall. "Now I'm sure you've plenty of questions, sire, and I assure you they will all be answered in due time. For now however, please follow me. There are dark deeds to be done." The blond frowned and looked at the four creatures, he could see no harm in following them, if it came down to it he had the sense that he could fight them off with little to no effort on his part...

From the convents of shadows and dusk in the Spawning Pit, an individual light arose as Gnarl approached it, whispering an indecipherable chant to awaken a Minion Gate. A small tremor tore Mother Nature a new one and as she cried the Earth shriveled and brought forth a fiery pool of yellow energy, which Gnarl knew to be mana, or as the fleshlings around here called it, chakra, it was a kind of magical force emanating from all things supernatural but most from inside of Nature's nymphic hide. It was the common color of the Browns, the color of their souls, though it didn't make much sense considering their name. It also meant that only Browns could be summoned from here.

"These are the Spawning Pits, sire. Where new minions can be summoned."

"Minions..." The blond echoed.

"Oh yes, Master. Notice the gauntlet we've placed on your left arm, it glows with the Mana,"He coughed not yet used to the new terminology he'd have to use on his plane. "Chakra, your body radiates and gives you the capablity to command your forces remotely. You can also use it, to absorb Lifeforce from slain enemies. But for now, use it to draw Gubbin, Mouldy, and Giblet from the Gate I've opened." The Overlord studied the gauntlet for a moment, its orange color burned in his vision, imitating a very living fire as it pointed his attention at the three Minions, all of whom hopped into the Minion Gate like it was a vacation. Gnarl chuckled a bit on the inside. This one was slow, that much was obvious as well. It'll be a week before he-

Without a second's warning, the Overlord brought his arm up and focused, his own chakra filling the gauntlet and turning it's orange flame crimson while he willed the Minions out of their little home like cabbages from a garden. Mouldy popped out first, almost landing on Gnarl who shrieked in surprise. Then Giblet, who's spine hit a strike on the base of a very sharp rock, and Gubbin, who's face landed in the Overlord's gauntlet-hand. The Overlord stared at him as he lifted him by the jaw of his skull and examinined him. "What the hell are you?"

"We are minions sire. Creatures that exist for the sole purpose of carrying out your will."

So I'm not in hell...He looked at the three minions who stared at him as though expecting him to give some sort of command . "Okay...Let's see if I fully understand this. You all are minions right?" Gnarl nodded. "You have to do what I tell you. I say 'jump' you say 'how high'."

"No sire." Gnarl grinned at his master's confusion. "You say 'jump' and we'll jump." This little joke earned the master's first smile in a long time.


"Being Overlord is more than just throwing a few fireballs and causing chaos! Proper evil...takes skill, and maybe, just a bit of mayhem..." Gnarl chuckled as he ascended a hazardous cliff on the other side of the courtyard, eyeing a Minion from his resting place. He'd brought him into this little grove, a favorite spot of the former mistresses, to teach him the finer points of minion control.

"I think sleeping beauty's a little rusty!" Came an arrogant voice. The Minion did a handstand as he landed feet away from the Overlord who proceded to raise a brow.

"Ugh...Our Jester, sire." Gnarl growled at the little monster who was dawned the cap of a jester and a staff with skull on it. "I really should have nailed him out for the crows long ago. He's a rare breed of Gold Minion, like myself, born every time an Overlord dies and his remains are harvested. He possesses attributes of all breeds of Minion, he can fight, has constantly regenerating flesh, can cast magic, and is very acrobatic."

"I see..." The blond frowned. he wouldn't have been annoyed by such an insignificant insult. He was more mature due to the evil that had been allowed to soak into his body. His once jumpy and happy demeanor replaced with a cool collected mindset, yet his rage was near constant at the same time. The evil of the tower had strengthened the amount of hate he'd harbored bringing it to the surface and the forefront of his mind. Now he was considering destroying the little bastard, or lashing out at something.

Gnarl grinned seeing the fury bubbling in his master's eyes. Just a little prodding... "Why don't you teach his to respect his Master."

Gnarl didn't need to say anything more as the Overlord took a running start, then lunged and plowed his foot into the Jester's head. The Jester made a fiendish cry of pain, but no blood or skin emerged from the contact as he rolled downhill laughing as he did so. The Overlord chased after him, with prodding from the Minion Master who'd grown quite ill of the Jester's insubordination, and watched as his Master as he proceeded to hurl the Jester far away, straight through a tree on the other side of a small gorge.

Oh dear...His body'll never be flexible enough to cross such an expanse right now. Gnarl considered it for a bit as the Jester dashed up a slope, leaving the Overlord baffled at the Jester's continued mockery.

"Come on, Princess! You move like a dead badger. Shame you don't smell as good!"

The blond growled. "Sire, he's out of your reach! Use your Minions to shut his flapping mouth!" Gnarl advised him, "If your Minions must follow a complicated route, you must...sweep them through it."

Like a professional, the Overlord used his gauntlet hand to command the Minions, Gubbin led his brothers across a fallen pillar that connected the two sides of the gorge, they all gathered some form of weaponry like a rock or a stick big enough to be mangled into a wooden club and raced across, surprising the Jester who was unaware that the Overlord could indeed control his Minions. Before he could dash away, however, Giblet smashed him over his head with his club, knocking him off balance as he bounced downward, splintering his skull on a rock. The Overlord then heeded they cease their attack, confusing all of them.

"Do not worry Sire, remember he has regenerating flesh, remember? Hit him again, don't hold back!" Gnarl was disappointed to see that the Overlord had stopped. But his advisment went unheeded, as he commanded the three Minions to return to their Master's side.

"They should call you the Overlard!" The Jester jested, already healed and pointing and waving at the blond in a comical fashion.

Gnarl realized it then as the Overlord made a fist and cracked his knuckles. He didn't call them back to save the Jester-

The Overlord rushed at the Jester, swinging his foot and kicking him into the tower side as he pounced on and gouged a finger into each of Jester's eyes, smearing the bloody orbs into his regenerating chest. The pattern continued as the Jester screamed in dire pain, his body repairing itself just in time for the angered Overlord to deliver another powerful blow. The blond apperantly had a lot of pent up rage and saw a perfect targert in the form of Jester. In time, he resorted to just beating the Jester with his fist, ripping him apart so that the healing process would become slower and slower.

He wanted to punish him himself! So cruel... Gnarl grinned. I like it!

As the Jester's ears were tossed into the gorge, his arms at least ten meters away from each other, and his legs now tiny little stumps, the Jester tried to crawl away in agony, pleading, "I hurt! I hurt!" But the Overlord refused to let him leave, no, he instead squashed his skull in under his boot and then stomped on him.

Gnarl himself was overtaken by the raw amount of brutality his Overlord was capable of, he almost felt sorry for the poor fools who would eventually draw his ire. "I think you're ready Master! Accompany me to the throne room, evil deeds won't do themselves. However, feel free to beat him further if you wish!"

The Jester wailed as the infuriated Overlord's shadow fell upon him. That was an option, the new and quick-learning Overlord wouldn't refuse.


How to Be An Evil Overlord: Part One.

1. My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexiglass visors, not face-concealing ones.

2. My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through.

3. My noble half-brother whose throne I usurped will be killed, not kept anonymously imprisoned in a forgotten cell of my dungeon.

4. Shooting is not too good for my enemies.

5. The artifact which is the source of my power will not be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safe-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness.