The small island of Gi (pronounced "ghee", or in a hurry "gee"), was an isle five hundred miles from the nearest continent, Oroka. Despite the Gians protests, the Orokan Empire insisted that Gi answer their invitation to annex in a way that would benefit everyone. At the time of the Evil Overlord's arrival nearly a year ago, Gi had been under Orokan rule for over a decade. The Gians had really thought they'd met the most ruthless regime in the world until Oroka, along with every other country, big and small, was conquered by a man from another realm.

Nobody knew where the Evil Overlord's base of operations was, or why he chose to go with the title "Evil Overlord", as opposed to another potential alias, such as the Warlord of Worlds, The Infamous Invader, or Supreme Commander Burrito Supreme.

Gi's largest village, Giton, had a population of just under a thousand. It appeared, on the surface, at least, to be a typical community of the medieval vibe; however, there was a crazy old preacher standing on the street corner shouting about a horse's rear.

"The End is Neigh!" he shouted, to which his horse rolled his eyes.

The horse said, "It's 'nigh'..."

At the center of Giton was the tavern, called Giton Tavern, run by a frail old man called Tender McGee, and his short round wife, the head wench, Grenda McGoo. The ink had smudged on the marriage certificate.

Built around this tavern - at least it appeared this way if you'd seen it - was everything else: the guard house, the capital building (a slightly bigger guard house), the stables, the blacksmith, etc.

*On all of the posts, walls, and doors in and around Giton Tavern, there are pinned fliers with the following: "All midwives will be banned from the realm. All babies will be delivered at state-approved hospitals. Orphans will be placed in foster-homes, not abandoned in the woods to be raised by creatures of the wild."

In this village is where our protagonists met.



The Infamous (so-called by his enemies, when they felt like being respectful and not being tortured) awoke among a couple of his concubines. Stretching beneath the sheets, D'ren smiled gleefully as he relished the thought of another day of global domination. And what a globe it was; D'ren once claimed that the planet he now lorded over was the size of Jupiter, whatever that is. Nobody here knew, except for his trusted officers and advisers, and of course Samy'azaii, his fallen angel companion, what Jupiter was. Of course, a couple of his soldiers thought he meant the Roman god. But he didn't need to correct them. Even the ignorant had their place in his Legions of Terror.

D'ren sat up and threw the blanket off the bed, crudely revealing his two naked concubines. But he didn't care because this was his bedchamber and he could do as he pleased. As the women awoke, only one of them looking remotely human, D'ren leaped out of bed in his green, white, and orange stripped boxers. Music started playing somewhere, somehow, and he began to sing.

"If I ruled the world..." he sung in an accent never before heard by anyone in this world.

D'ren went about his daily routine: showering, brushing his teeth, *shaving that ridiculous goatee. As he dressed himself, he realized he had people for that...

His two mistresses dressed him as the emperor of the universe stood there smirking at himself in the mirror. They put on his black leather pants, black leather vest, black leather duster, black leather scabbard with a scimitar in it, black leather gun holsters, with *dual Colt .45 1911 handguns in them, black leather knuckle gloves, and black combat boots.

Afterward, D'ren threw open the one of his many bedroom windows and beamed with pride, accomplishment, and joy, as if he himself caused the orange sun in the sky to bestow its gifts of light and warmth. Letting out a breath of fresh air, D'ren nodded and turned to his now fully dressed women. He went to them and put his arms around their waists as he stood between them.

"T'day's gonna be a g'day, aye!" he touted.

Five Minutes Later...

D'ren's face could not give a more annoyed expression if it tried. Lounging back on his throne, the Evil Overlord glared at the woman in the throne room reading her scroll of petitions from the people of Oroka.

"...lesser sentences for people found guilty of stealing, less taxes, less fresh food confiscated by your Legions of Terror, and less restrictions of our economy! We want our free market back!"

When she was finally finished, D'ren glanced around at a few of his advisers and lieutenants and blinked. "Oh? Ye're done? Is that all?" His sarcasm then took a harsh, savage tone. "How about less limbs? Or less fingers? Or maybe less annoying little wenches who constantly come petitioning her king for less things??? Bugger off, ya silly bint!"

A guard escorted the woman and her cadre of petitioners outside. One of D'ren's advisers behind him leaned down to whisper, "Sir. I am proud of you. Usually you shoot the petitioners. You showed remarkable restraint, my Lord."

"Shut," D'ren growled, turning and glaring up at the adviser, "up. Or ye'll be the one shown remarkable restraint!"

The Evil Overlord stormed out of the throne room. The adviser turned to one of the lieutenants. "I don't even know what that means..."

Fifteen Minutes Later...

The adviser was strapped hanging upside down to a wheel that stretched his body. "AAAH! I get it! I get it! This is remarkable restraint! Sir, I get it! O' how remarkable this restraint is!"

The Giton Tavern

Adyeers woke up with a start of a wild animal right outside the tavern on a bench. He looked at himself and looked around. "By the universe, what the fuck is the time?" he said as he looked around for some anwser. He saw a clock and it said eight in the morning. Then he said...

"Fucking great, my meetin' in five minutes. Guess I screw'd the pooch on that one."

As he strained himself to go inside, he scratched his head. I wonder what this prick looks like he thought as he servayed the room. He took out a bag of coins and tossed them to nearest waitress. "Here you go sweet cheeks,
why don't you grab me an very, very strong ale" he said with a crooked grin.

As he waited for his ale in the corner booth, he waited for his current "Buisness Partner".

Jeff Samson, or as literally everyone called him for fear of being horribly eviscerated (or, at least, everyone bar the grand overlord himself, D'ren,) Doomlord, was currently following the sound of screams and cries for mercy through the castle, emerging into the torture rooms. Under most circumstances, he quite liked the torture rooms, they had a nice, vicious, intimidating architecture style, with plenty of darkness to make sure people knew just where they were.

He let out a quiet sigh as he saw the adviser strapped to the wheel, and turned to his... King. Despite being the ultimate avatar of Chaos and DOOM, he still apparently had a master, so that was a thing. "My lord," he said in a deep, booming voice, that reverberated around the room, rattling some of the panes. "Whilst I am sure he has done many things to deserve such a punishment, he is one of our better advisers, and he seems to have learnt his lesson."

"Also, I'm pretty sure we have a hero problem."

"Again."

Kita, in her housecat form, felt the warm sunlight upon her face. She woke up and did a kitty stretch before sitting up and licking herself clean. She quietly sat on the window sill, watching the world outside and batting at the occasional bug. From here, the land was vast and everything looked so pristine, but she deep down, many of her kind as well as fellow creatures were being hunted relentlessly for sport. The heroes call it 'gaining experience'. The Felinians called it target practice and torture. What made it worse was that the heroes would not stop with their crusades. There were seemingly endless waves of them

That is, until the Evil Overlord came to reign. The number of heroes started to fall and for once the Heroes' future looked glum. But recently, there was another surge and this time there were few places for her kind to hide. The Felinians lacked in numbers and habitual land. They hid in the forests and navigated the mountains, but the time had come to put an end to the heroes. And what better way than to join the forces of evil?

It wasn't long before Kita had finished her breakfast consisting of a fresh catch of fish. She changed into her catgirl form (opposable thumbs are important), and went on to check yesterday's traps for caught heroes (they didn't finish before the timer ended). A 100% capture rate. Their mutilated bodies lay strewn across the spikes, male and female, young and old. After sifting through the mess, Kita pulled a lever on the wall and everything was exhumed. The machines began to churn and roar, hissing and grinding. The meat turned to ashes and any metal left was melted down. After going through the rest of the traps. Kita scribbled down today's harvest of humans and made a note to ask the Evil Overlord what he wanted to do with the melted metal this time. Should it be turned into spikes? Cursed with demons? Or simply vanished?

With today's report recorded, Kita went into a quieter room so that she could work on designing a new trap. A ball of yarn lay on her desk as she started to sketch. Some mini-models were on a shelf in the back of the room. For each trap Kita would imagine what it was like, but of course a few heroes would need to be to be thrown in as a test. It was always funny when a hero gets half embedded into a wall. Their painful looks of struggle and fear was priceless...

*blinks*

Oh... Yarn!

Habervast had been keeping a low profile once the Evil Overlord took over. Beforehand, he was a famed wizard, renown across Okoa for his party tricks and frivolous dalliances. Nothing about him bespoke a powerful mage, and anyone who asked about old Habervast would only gather that he liked to party. A lot. Or at least he used to. His name had fallen out of the public sphere for several years--he had hoped no one knew he was alive. Times were getting harder. His magic doppleganger stopped wiring his Cluck N' Duck checks to him some months back. Word around on the carousel is he skipped town. Damn you, Ben Dover. Damn you!

So, poor Habervast led a bandit party for a while--until he couldn't afford to pay them anymore. All the guilds had been shut down once the Overlord came to town; it left the honest mages strapped for cash; no street peddlers were selling much either. And don't even think about trying to buy it from the black market, the Overlord had spies there, too. Of course, none of this bothered Habervast--he could make his own potions whenever he wanted. It just wasn't as fun! He missed the adventure, but to suddenly return to the heart of GI might seem suspicious. He'd have to ditch these robes and find himself some new garments and maybe a less boisterous staff, too. Nothing screams, "I'm a wizard" like a giant bo-staff and a guy with long, luscious, pure white hair.

So he created his own clothing shop right then and there. Furnished with all the clothes he could... take...because he made the cursed thing. After helping himself to some free threads--something far less inconspicuous--and getting himself a nice, sleek black wand--something easily concealed--he set out to the heart of Gi again, destined to, well...not do much of anything as of right now. Word got around about a new influx of heroes, and word also got around about a sleu of dead heroes not long after. Boy, he remembered the days when the good guys had it easy. It'd probably take him a few deaths and resurrections before he lived to see that again.

Gi hadn't changed much. The people looked more weary, though. Tax increase perhaps? Shame, Habervast always remembered the women looking a lot easier on the eye than they were now. For a moment he pondered on what the barmaids themselves looked like. Ah, the bar! He hadn't had a drink in a while, and he made sure to dress casual. Well, casual enough that he'd still be relatively indistinguishable from the commoners. He sat down and ordered himself a drink. The Giton, huh? Not quite how he remembered it. Slimetongue must have cracked under pressure from the mysterious overlord; Habervast was sure this had a much more colorful ring to it back in the day.

"Two shots of perrywinkle and a downer, lassie." his tone rung out. The barmaid obliged.

.

Vark walked in a fine suit down the street, looking like an upstanding businessman. He had left his home despite wanting to chop up people who did not quite agree with various ideas of his, but there were bigger threats to his ideology than some purple haired overweight women and nasty foreign lads. As he neared the tavern he screwed on a silencer to his gun, removed the clips from his beard to let it fall down to it's full size and ripped off the suit (which somehow completely came off and concealed a massive cloak fit for any wizard and a large hat - and a staff and much more) and with a satisfactory thump tapped his staff on the ground beneath. Finally he kicked at the door and shot a few bullets into various items of glassware and started to shout "THIS IS A STICKU-" before abruptly stopping and having a middle-aged blue eye lazily look up with thought. The Grand Wizard stood there slowly realizing that he wasn't looking for cash but for meatshields who would help him give the overlord fellow a right talking to. Eventually he backed out of the building, and then repeated the dramatic entry only stopping momentarily to reload his gun.

"Alright, now that I have your attention I am looking for heroes! A great prophecy has struck me, I visited an anonymous outdated forum on which a post had repeating digits; IT SAID THE OVERLORD IS IN FACT BAD AND WE NEED TO FUCK HIS SHIT UP!" He could have put it more eloquently but he still had to make that bootube video about why what everyone was doing was wrong and he had to make that death metal piece that was already paid for. The man shot his gun a few more times into the ceiling to emphasize the gravitas of the situation and then waved his staff about to show that he was asking all present. "I say, who is with me! Who is going on an epic adventure!" At last it dawned on him that not everyone was a bloody idiot to go to a likely death just like that and then he quickly added "We'll split his shit fair and square when he's done with and we can probably sell his organs for a little too, so come on!" as he jumped on a table.

@Afro Samurai@Andreyich

He saw the weird theatrics at the door. Ha, look at this dumbass, but he is the guy that I beleive to be my new "buisness partner" he thought. He got, turned around, raised his hand in the air as if to stop someone, and chuged his ale.

"Your ten minutes, thirty-two seconds late dingus! Now, are we going to kill the fuck-twat or not" he said mockingly. He walked up to the wizard, shedding hhis false form and clothes to reveal himself. "Boo!" he yelled when he turned his head to where the whole bar could see. They all ran out screaming demon.

Dick had come to this village on a whim. He had had his doubts about the place at first, but the tavern was quiet enough for his tastes, and he could usually get a drink that didn't taste of piss and work on his novel in relative peace. That had been before the conquest at least. Now though, with an evil overlord pizda having put his publisher out of business, supposedly because it wasn't publishing appropriate material, Dick had come to the Giton simply to drink himself dead. Or come as close to it as was practical. He didn't have a bottomless purse.

And so it was that Dick happened to be sitting at the bar, scratching away in his notebook when a room-shaking bang shook the room. Dick jumped, and saw some chuj holding a gun shouting pierdolony dymać about killing the Evil Overlord. "Kurwa," Dick muttered, having spilled his drink. He got up and staggered over to the pair of dupac who had interrupted his drinking. Then one of them transformed into a demon. This did not faze Dick, and neither did the wizard-looking man who had fired shots into the tavern's ceiling. Dick walked up to them both, being buffeted slightly by other patrons fleeing the bar. And Dick gave them both a once over, before burping. He made his way to the door, paused a moment, and then turned. Dick tossed the remaining contents of his wallet to the bartender.

"What a sorry state this pierdolony world has come to..."

Assallya moved to the overlord, her soft silks floating about her like so many shadows and clung gently to his bicep for he didn't like being impeded in his movements. Her long golden hair washed over his shoulder and she gazed up at the advisor that had been hung upside down. She loved it when the overlord exerted his authority. She loved watching him punish others. It was a power she could flex herself when she so chose, in his name of course, but it was something she greatly enjoyed.

"My lord," the voice of the doomlord said in a deep, booming voice, that reverberated around the room, rattling some of the panes. "Whilst I am sure he has done many things to deserve such a punishment, he is one of our better advisers, and he seems to have learnt his lesson."

"Also, I'm pretty sure we have a hero problem."

"Again."

"A hero problem?" Assallya echoed, "Did someone finally pull that bastard magic sword out of the stone? I particularly liked that last one that staked himself to a tree in hopes of understanding all the powers of the ancients. That problem took care of itself when he bled himself out."

D'ren's droll demeanor diverted over to Doomlord. His invisible angel of chaos who was in charge of all things chaotic gave Doomlord an equally equitable evil eye.

Doomlord let out a quiet sigh as he saw the adviser strapped to the wheel, and turned to his... King. Despite being the ultimate avatar of Chaos and DOOM, he still apparently had a master, so that was a thing. "My lord," he said in a deep, booming voice, that reverberated around the room, rattling some of the panes. "Whilst I am sure he has done many things to deserve such a punishment, he is one of our better advisers, and he seems to have learnt his lesson."

"Also, I'm pretty sure we have a hero problem."

"Again."

"Have a guard bring him down."

"A hero problem?" Assallya echoed, "Did someone finally pull that bastard magic sword out of the stone? I particularly liked that last one that staked himself to a tree in hopes of understanding all the powers of the ancients. That problem took care of itself when he bled himself out."

D'ren pulled up a bastard magic sword and waved it at Assallya. "Yeah someone did! I fuckin' pulled it out of the stone! WoohOOO!" He tossed it into a pile of about four dozen other swords. He turned to another lieutenant and said, "Have someone lock those up in the armory. Don't even know how they got into the dungeons anyway."

The Evil Overlord turned to saunter out of the room, followed closely (presumably) by Doomlord and Assallya. As they ascended the dungeon steps, D'ren said, "The heroes should not be a problem. We have spies everywhere. Which reminds me, I need to give Grenda McGoo a Certificate of Awesome Spying for her work last week. Tell me, Ass, where do your spies tell you they are?"*

Doomlord rolled his eyes inside his armour and snapped his fingers, one of the guards hurrying to pull down the injured advisor. "Honestly Ass," he disguised a snicker, like he did every time she said the bimbo's name, "it's not like it's that difficult. I pulled a sword from a stone a week ago. It was in my fuckin' quarters. Just, 'poof' appeared there. Sword was pretty shit." He gave a chuckle.

"Milord, whilst I understand we effortlessly defeated the previous..." He counted off a few numbers in his head, "four hero groups with ease, you deliberatley made sure your men treated any security malfunction as a full scale emergency. Not to call you hypocritical, but wouldn't following your own advice be prudent?"

.

Staring at the bugger what approached him, Vark shot the roof above him to have dust, plaster and whatever else the roof was made of fall upon the other man; he then ejected the clip to have it bounce off the bastard in another show of disrespect. Finishing a reload, he holstered his weapon and looked about and wove a hand to the yet unnamed to him remaining patron of the establishment cursing under his breath. "You've just been forced willfully enlisted into the planet's liberation front, you see lad?"

Instinctively he pulled out his Piphone and after replying to an argument he got on Pootube he switched to browse a few news websites and such. "We don't have much time." he began. "We're a motley crew and shittier heroes I have not seen, but on the other hand villains tend to be lazy fat bastards after a day or two; not enough exercise and healthy vegetables, too much rest. After the week or two we're fighting minions I reckon that he'll 'slip up' as they usually do and we'll get a chance to find 'em, then we can find and fuck them up and take their shit assuming they don't have a big will stored up somewhere. Now, let's go!" he said cheerfully, tapping his staff and summoning the Sword of Wotan. "Adventure awaits!" he shouted, guessing that the group would now have to just go on the road until they bumped into a patrol or something of the likes to kill so that they could reach the next proverbial (or perhaps literal) level.

Dzierżysław heard this bearded chuj speak his mind. He certainly shouted all of this gówno loud enough. It'd be a small wonder if the Evil Overlord didn't know that their sorry dupa were making their way over to pay him a visit in five pierdolony minutes.

"Pieprzyć mnie," Dzierżysław muttered, turning around. He wasn't the type to let people kill themselves. He might be a grumpy dupa, but he wasn't that much of a pizda. So he sucked in a breath and grabbed this wizard-looking fellow by the collar. Hoping the Szatan-looking Skurwielu would just follow his lead, Dzierżysław dragged his loud and obnoxious chuj into an alleyway next to the tavern. He cast an eye around, and seeing no overt spies, dropped his voice so that only the chuj and he could hear it.

"Listen here mały idiota, I am called Dzierżysław Folster, and you would do well to listen closely. Shouting your grozny gówno in the broad of daylight amidst the public? Głupi pierdolony idea! What I mean to say is, that pizda overlord you want dead? You and your dupa are getting killed in an instant! I appreciate your jądra, mały idiota, but you are going to need to take five pierdolony minutes to think about what you are doing and how. Got it? Dobra, chodźmy." Dzierżysław looked at the chuj expectantly, and then let go of his collar. He had white knuckles that tingled from gripping him so urgently. Maybe he had a real reason to want this pizda dead. But he supposed it ought to be done right, or not at all.

"You can call me Dick by the way, since I know all you dziewczęta luźno mówione can't pronounce gówno."

---

After a long yawn, Kita stretched herself out. It was only a short nap, but it felt like she had been asleep for days! Kita rolled up her plans and headed out the door. She navigated the hallways by memory as everything was deliberarely mislabelled to mislead the heroes. She soon came upon the smelter where the metal from the heroe's armour had been melted. However, there were some that still held a bit of shape.

"So what should I do with them now?" said Kita to herself. She had to think of some ideas before going to D'ren. "We can turn them into commemorative coins, but what if the heroes get a hold of them and try to piece them back together?"

A smirk came across Kita's face. "Oh I know" she started with a more evil tone. "Why don't we just curse the molten metal? The heroes will then unwittingly come in contact with it, thus ending their life!" said the catgirl with triumph.

"Except that if they break the curse, that hero stink is still there" said Kita, thinking a bit ahead. Except that more than once has she gotten herself into a knot because of overthinking?

"Vaporise it then" replied Kita.

"No. It takes too much energy. And since, didn't the D'ren have a collection of weapons somewhere? Maybe I should ask him what to do"

"What? Without any ideas of your own? You have a brain, right?"

"Stop tormenting me and making my life hard!"

"Okay, okay. That's it. Either we curse the metal, vaporise it..."

"Or turn into sand and scatter it into the sea!"

"...Purrfect!"

And with that, Kita beamed happily and checked to see if they could repurpose the massive meat grinder into a metal grinder. Hmm... if Kait was here, she would be so good at this. The two catgirls were from the same litter, each with their own winning points. But try as she might, the grinder didn't produce anything as fine as metal dust. Did this castle have anything that could do that?

Kita felt that she should see if the engineering department could do anything in regards to this. But first, it would be best to run it by the Evil Overlord. Kita went along the hallways, her kitty ears listening for the Overlord's voice. She heard it in the distance and poked her head out around the corner before joining the Evil Overlord.

"D'ren, the batch of heroes have been processed and pulped. The numbers are as usual, however, there seems to be armour that did not fully melt in the smelter. Would it be a risk if we just chop the armour into bits? I'm concerned the heroes might be able to collect and piece it back together again, being the avid collectors they frequently are. Should we grind the armour into metal dust and scatter it into the sea?"

@Andreyich

"Well, we best hurry mortal" he retorted.

He created a sweet tea out of nowhere and started to drink. "As for the exercise, I can tone my body by simply thinkin' it" he mocked. He walked past and waited outside.

Assallya had just been about to answer her lord and master's question when she found herself saved by the interjection of that idiot girl that was for some inexplicable reason, partially feline. Whatever manner of sorcerer wasted his efforts on such a creation was beyond Assallya's kenning.

The catgirl's form of address though? D'Ren? Assallya's eyes steeled at the sound of the Overlord's name used by a girl in such a friendly, personal manner. She couldn't believe that the cat girl would dare! Resisting the urge to unleash a spell that would intimidate and humiliate the catgirl Assallya merely turned to her lord and master and whispered in his ear.

"Would you like me to kill her for such disrespect or would you like to enjoy it yourself?"

"Kill her and I see how easy it is to rip your head from your neck and use it as a goblet. I happen to like the feline girl."
"Also, I'm running out of skull goblets, and it's really embarrassing for someone called Doomlord to drink out of an earthenware mug when someone storms my keep."
"Actually, Overlord, can you excuse me for a bit? Power armour's getting stiff and bathing in the blood of foolish bards helps get the kinks out. The hero problem can probably wait, I gotta say."

"How dare you decide what the overlord will our will not do Voice!" Assallya countered as the Doomlord turned to leave without receiving permission.

The courtesan couldn't believe the man's audacity. She was going to revel in the lesson she felt the Overlord was going to mete out. There was nothing Assallya lived more than watching the Overlord every his power over others.