The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Volume 11: Woodland Animus

Continued from here.

Diary Entry #0180

Four days it took me. Four days, to learn of mine wife’s mysterious ways; or need I say her body’s? ‘Tis a treacherous thing, this vessel; and much more besides.

Now at least, I have learnt a most incongruous skill to transform mine body into that of a worm’s. If never have you seen a worm carry unto its mouth a book and magical quill…may you never come upon such grotesque imagery.

The jaw aches alone!

I also feel a peculiar sensation that threatens to engulf my whole being. Hunger, I think. No wonder it kills the poor, defenseless peasants.

Something moved! There, beyond the rivulet! Surely it must be food; I intend to find out, one way or another!

Diary Entry #0181

Tamara’s body is much different from mine. Softer, for one; when I caught up to the rabbit, its heart did not burst with fear. Instead, it addressed me. A speaking, squeaking long-eared critter.

I couldn’t make this nonsense up if I tried!

We spoke at some length, then, and with no persuasion at all, the creature fell into mine thrall. Now, it has sworn a blood oath, to serve me for as long as it, and any of its kin remain alive. In return, it has only asked me to enslave and burn all the hunters of this land.

I call it Squiggins.

Diary Entry #0182

I may have eaten Squiggins with the aid of several hunters.

The hunters have now sworn their eternal allegiance to me, and their only request is for me to rid this land of the deadly wererabbits. The infestation within this portion of the Kingdom of Throzia is quite something,  I hear.

These peasants’ lustful gazes annoy me greatly, however.

Diary Entry #0185

It appears that with the tasting of some wererabbit meat, I have learned to transform mine new form unto that of…well, a deadly critter with venom leaking from its teeth, obviously. For three days I couldn’t quite control mine feral urges, as I grew accommodated to this form. Several farms, a few villages and two towns have turned into dust.

The hunters reacted somewhat prematurely to my new form, and are now taking a nap. I am certain that the arcane symbols that I marked upon these men’s bodies will change their minds. Or turn them unto my brainless thralls. Whichever happens first.

Psst. It shall be the latter, not the former.

Mine great magical energies may be displaced, but I still possess the knowledge and the intuition. And Tamara’s body, as alien as it has proven to be, shall aid me in reacquiring all that is mine.

Oh, dear. I do believe a piece of hunter is stuck in my teeth.

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Volume 10 — Tamara

Diary Entry #0175

I find my Ex-Wife standing in the ruins of an ancient temple not far from the center of town. Mine Librarians have, by now, subjugated all local authorities, and have made their base unto the small library in town. ‘Tis a pitiful reliquary of knowledge but it shall feed their hunger for the arcane until my business is done.

I have cast self-writing spells on this here feather, and am stepping unto the once-hollow grounds of cursed Linah, goddess of old. I can hear the thunder that the harp stole from me all the way from the entrance, curse her grabby claws.

I step on a tile and — of course — an apparition of the three-headed pet dog I had appears and attempts to bite my head off. Ungrateful sap! I summon a blade of pure darkness, and cut through its soul essence, unable to help myself as gleeful laughter escapes mine lips.

She poisoned my puppy, and stole its remains, for this?!

One simply must respect her attention to detail; few put in such grand effort into their malicious intent towards me. Take the Council of Darkness — for all their armies, that yonder group of mine colleagues hath proven woefully lacking in imagination. Soon will I turn the blade on them, and cut their traitorous tongues, and serve them with spicy goodness and mushrooms.

Mushrooms add a depth to traitorous tongues that few other ingredients manage to!

Ah, this wife of mine — her gauntlet tires on me. But the thunder is ever nearer, and so must I venture further. Tis maze of tunnels, built by ancients–Bah! I will have none of it!

My armored fingers twitch with utter disregard to all things living, and all things rocky that might be encountered against the underground wall in front of me. It melts away, clearing the way towards mine succubus of an ex! I do not see her, not y–what’s this? My spell is boun–!

I awaken to the sensation of molten armor all over my magnificent vessel. ‘Tis not a pleasant one, to my mild surprise; at least I can now scratch an item off of my Agony List.

Metal reforms and strengthens under mine force of indomitable will, and I get up and stomp towards the deafening sounds of mine thunder. There will be hells to pay. Perchance she will be the one to pay them all in the stead of mine suit of armor.

There she is, now. My, is she a fright to beholden!

Her hair is pale white, with a purple strand or two, and her eyes — a bloodshot red that makes artists squeal with joy untold. Her nails could decapitate a man with such ease as to leave any observer awed and drenched in cold sweat. Her legs are travelling towards my–ARGH– “Woman, what did you do that for?!”

“It’s my way of thanking you for the chase you’ve given, husband of mine.” She smiles at me. The nerve! “I have long hungered for a game of cat and mouse, darling man, and you were all too accommodating. Did you enjoy your — welcoming pup?”

As she speaks, I attempt to flicker her off with two fingers. Would silence her well enough. Mine is a lightning fast move; the harpy dodges it, blast her winged hide.

“Mine thunder, woman.”

She lets out a roaring laugh, then turns unto a wolf, three, four times the size of mine dark lupine pets, and lunges at mine throat. Barely do I react in time, slapping her fanged face away.

One thing I have never missed in this woman — her dog breath.

She transforms once again, this time to a younger visage of her true form; her face is bloodied but she pays no heed to it.

“It is not here, husband, surely you have noticed so already?”

I give no answer; curse the gods, she is right! The sounds of mine thunder do no longer provide ambiance in the massive underground arena whence we have our ex-marital bout of violent exchanges…

“Return it, witch!” I spit at her, as the earth trembles in response to mine terrible wrath, dirt and sandstone raining down on us. “Or else I shall bury us both, and watch as you wiggle your way up, under the guise of a worm — it will suit you so, Tamara!”

She pouts at me — she dares! — and puts a chest upon that device that pumps blood unto her ancient body. “I didn’t wish your anger to cause it harm, darling, and so I put it somewhere safe; it just so happened that my body was the safest vessel. Can you blame me?”

“Most cer–”

“Your spell of doom and gloom did try to disintegrate me so…I wanted to avoid any further unpleasantness, and so I did as I thought best.”

“Take it out then, witch, and hand it over. Do so now, and I will allow thine wings to carry you unharmed from here.”

She takes a step forward, and bows, a bit too deeply. Mockery, perhaps?

“Kiss me, and it will be yours to command once more,” she says, her eyes glinting with…whatever it is that witches’ eyes glint with, when they are plotting to steal a kiss from me.

“Must I, really?”

“Is it the breath that worries you?”

“It’s–oh, never you mind, witch. Let us be done and over with this.”

She nods, and I remove my helm.

“I love what you’ve done with your hair, it’s really quite captivating.”

I ignore her, as her face draws nearer. Gods, and I thought the stench was bad before.

“If this is trickery, witch, I will roast you for it. No memory of old will stop my hand this time, and no ma–”

She silences me. The force of my magnificent, wondrous thunder roars unto her body, as I stretch mine consciousness unto her body–and the trap springs.

 

Day #0176

I awoke unto darkness. It shouldn’t have worried me, of course — since I have excellent darkvision — but it did. Mine attempts to summon light were met with great lack of success; mine magics did not respond unto mine desperate calls and pleas.

I finally managed to start a fire with a flint that I discovered after hours upon hours of search in the darkness. A leather bag was not left not far from me but in the darkness…it took a long time to discover.

Light gave way to definitive proof of what I feared most — mine former wife has somehow stolen mine glorious body, and left my mind unto hers. She is doubtless far, by now, already plotting on the best ways to dismantle my growing Empire.

Tamara will fail. I will hunt her down, take back the vessel that is due to me, and banish her unto realms of such endless horror that she could not ever dream of.

And I…I will make sure that none are left to defy me, once she is taken care of.

 

 

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Vol. 09 – Volunteers

Diary Entry #0170

Mine power sizzles and crackles with a terrible itch to be used. But I mustn’t allow myself any distraction for the chase grows ever closer and more heated. Strange, this heat; unnatural, even. Almost does it remind me of…but no, it cannot be.

Great challenges did we overcome since the foul princeling’s attack on mine men. The fire within their spirits did suffer greatly from the loss of a quarter of our companions. Blight come upon this kingdom!

…I would be much remiss to deny mine own sorrow at their loss. These Librarians are much like an extended family, if mine memories play no tricks upon me — they grumble and moan as each morn and eve comes to pass, and they eat all of mine carefully prepared food only to demand more, and they can make trolls explode with their mental prowess (a fact of which I am very proud).

What kind of Ruler would enjoy burying his relatives?

Well, the Prince that attacked me, that much has been made manifest.

Diary Entry #0171

A villager of this here kingdom, one that heard mine wonderful monologue from yonder day before today, has been following ever since, slinking around. I shall force him into mine aura of truthfulness so that he admits to me his role — be he a spy, I shall cut him unto ribbons and make of him a stew for mine hounds.

Amongst other important tasks today, I have made hounds from clay. It has proven a most curious enterprise. I do believe one ate a Librarian.

Oh, well.

Diary Entry #0172

The Librarian who was eaten is alive.

What wonderful news.

The hounds of clay have turned to non-hounds of clay, and the man I considered might be a spy has ‘volunteered’. I was not aware of this wonderful notion until he brought it up and explained it to me in great detail; now that he has, I plan on forcing every single one of the residents of the next village, town, city or — to the hells with it — an entire country, to volunteer unto mine armed forces.

I have created new hounds of clay, and have added bread to the recipe. My Prime Librarian, Sven, nearly received a heart attack when he realized what I had done with all our supplies of bread.

He is young, and knows little of evocation spells, and he will learn with experience.

Besides, it works with meatballs.

Diary Entry #0175

We have arrived in the town of Kresh. I can sense Her nearby, perhaps watching me from some hidden spot even now. It is time I face my wife.

Ex. Ex-wife.

 

Next Time: We reach the tenth Volume in our illustrious tale! Crazy stuff goes down! Dialogues! Madness! Insanity! And so much more!

 

 

 

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Vol. 07 – The Importance of Communication

Diary Entry #0150

Five days I have been on the road with a band of mine cohorts. Good servants, my companions — many of them come from those Libraries whence I put them, to study arcane arts and divination during those most foul attacks of the Council of Darkness. They have proven useful with their trickery and short legs, enough even for a great Dark Lord such as myself to take notice.

My wisdom knows few bounds and none of them concern young he and she-children and what is to be done with them.

As long as no one hands them bows.

Diary Entry #0151

It occurs to mine terrible intellect that no reason was writ as to the reason of me having left mine capital when still it writhes, bloodied and wounded by traitorous fiends, ripe for attack by many a neighbor, as soon as weakness is felt. Why then would I, greatest master of dark arts and magics and sorceries, keeper of secrets unknown and unbecoming, abandon mine dark hold in this hour?

‘Tis simple, really. Only my will, indomitable and fierce as it is, has the capability to see my thunder found and brought back safely where it needs must be, in the heart of my realm, protecting all with its malicious rumble.

I am nearly certain as to the identity of this thief. It is not one among the traitorous lot of that Council whose name I no longer even wish to pronounce.

Nay, tis much worse. This thief is mine former wife.

Diary Entry #0152

I remember some of what it was like, before. Our life together was happy, if difficult. There was pain and hardship aplenty, as you might imagine. Working, trying to survive tends to do a grueling trick on the best of men. But I never gave up. Never.

I had a wife I loved. A daughter.

I miss them terribly.

Diary Entry #0153

Bah, what trickery is this?!

Memories of writing this previous entry, I have none! I have been under such monstrous tension lately, perhaps a respite is necessary.

The scouts report that a gathering of feral ogres threatens a nearby village. Perhaps I shall join them in their pillage of the free people of Lokre. My arcane librarians deem it an unpalatable idea but it will not do, allowing them to dictate my choices.

Diary Entry #0155

I have taken the minds of the feral ogres and forced them to do my bidding. That lot proved to be horrid hosts; they all but failed to recognize my superiority, those insipid fools. For that,  I have punished them as only I can.

The arcane librarian corps, as I have decided to call the newly-minted organization of wee lads and lasses who spend too much time in my libraries,  has cheered my decision. It would appear that some of them have come from Lokre; such pity that their parents never taught them the importance of communication.

All they needed do was ask.

 

Thank you for reading! I’m actively trying to steer this series towards a more fully-realized and rounded fictional world instead of a series of one-off comedic bits, which — while funny — don’t really leave that much of an impression. It’s a fun challenge I enjoy revisiting weekly; if you enjoy reading it, let me know! I’m always up for conversations on all fictional matters!

 

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Vol. 06 – Patronage

Diary Entry #0142

Over two weeks have come to pass since the Council of Darkness spun tail and ran off to the South. While I commanded a few efretti — fire demons, native to the far-off lands of Bazrah — to snap at the enemy’s heels, ’tis not my intent to defeat the Council as they retreat. Bah, let them hide in their desert fortresses and dusty keeps. I care not!

All that matters is finding my thunder, my beloved ambiance. My life is not the same without it. The sun has now taken a permanent residence — or what seems like it — into my glorious throne chambers. I recall arguing with a great architect about the dubious decision of making a fortress of obsidian and glass once; I can only wish that I were a more stern, principled Dark Lord.

I’ve always given old Barnabus too much leeway. Perhaps stricter control is in order, now that he is rebuilding my capital, he might as well be taught an important lesson in obedience.

GUARDS! BRING ME BARNABUS’ RIGHT FOOT!

…That ought to teach him.

Diary Entry #0143

Remaining on point is at times more troublesome than you would care to know. I was speaking of the continuous trials and tribulations that came with the spineless thievery of my precious thunder.

I have summoned a master, and forgive me if I misspell the word, “dee-tic-tive,” from the newly…sigh…liberated Elven democracy of Fanfallah. Whoever thought of these elven names should be skinned and given to the Nephew of Deceit. Nephew’s shown great affinity for naming all manner of beasties. He is also tremendous company for teatime.

Back to this dee-tick-tive. It is said that his prowess in capturing criminals is second to none. I shall use him until he is little more than a pile of bones, if that will bring me my thunder back! He better produce some results soon, some ‘kloo’ as he insists on calling them.

Elves are strange little tall people.

Diary Entry #0145

I have the thunder thief’s stench! Preparations for the chase near completion even now.

The strange little elf produced wonderful results. Let none say that I am an ungrateful master; to show my great appreciation for his service, I have offered my patronage. The little fellow agreed all too heartily. He will make me more of these dee-tick-thieves. There is great potential within the lad. I shall bathe him in my tenebrous embrace, coddle him in a chrysalis of pure night; it would be my greatest pleasure if he were to fulfill his great promise.

Aye, I might have very well misjudged Felandred…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Vol. 05: Stoned Enemies!

Diary Entry #0120

The gates are breached! Nightmares and monstrosities assail the very heart of my realm!

Goblins and orcs and undead have long since desiccated and turned to ash and dust under my protective aura; alas, the front line of the Council of Darkness refuses to break under my fierce defense. Gigantic mole-like creatures have crept from soft–if strangely covered in green growth– soil, and cyclopi have stepped to hold against my

Damn these iron-clad fiends! They are trying to steal my thunder!

Diary Entry #0121

Someone stole my thunder. No, I’m not talking about the figurative statement of style. I mean to say, someone stole the artifact that is my thunderous…well, thunder. It’s the ambiance sound in my throne chamber.

Someone stole a sound. How can someone even do that?!

Diary Entry #0124

Since my thunder has been stolen, things have gone terribly, horribly bad. By ‘things’, I mean the war effort. Forgive me, victorious me of the future. I can scarcely get to the task of defeating the enemy with the sounds of chirping birds coming ever-so-crisp from the outside. Things could only get worse if the sun were to sh–oh. Oh no. No! It broke through! The sun broke through the thick smaug of my beautiful fortress again!

*

I have just received word that the molemen of the Council of Darkness have become blinded and turned on the Council’s own soldiers. The cyclopi, meanwhile, have turned to stone, and so have the trolls. I salute my stoned enemies, even as I entwine the mole-creatures with tenebrous tendrils of power and send them to shatter the stone-forms.

…This was, of course, all part of my plan. It was I who, through my inactivity, challenged this…this burning sphere of death to turn its attention upon mine lands. Difficult as this task was, I have succeeded in it; and I have proven victorious, for now.

The Council of Darkness sounds the retreat. Amongst them is someone who has stolen my thunder.

He will not reach far.

 

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Vol. 04 – Here Comes the Sun

Diary Entry #0110

Ten days of warring within thine splendid walls of blackness, my capital, my glorious Fulcrum. Blood – demonic and human and other, besides – clogs tiles of soulstone. Even more than is normal, in fact!

Mine annoyance knows no bounds. If only I could find the body of my esteemed generals…they would get quite the stern shaking, they would!

Alas…they dead. So dead. Perchance I have killed several of mentioned generals, myself.

On the dark side, the libraries and the children within them seem to have been swollen by the earth. Most perturbatory, even if my darkened heart sings in joy at the news. I will send a squadron of kobolds to investigate the soft soil where the libraries stood.

I have received word of one of my remaining commanders. The kobolds blew themselves up. Some newly-minted captain gave them real dynamite instead of the chocolate stuff. Poor tiny abominations…they can’t help themselves.

Well, at least they buried half the Council of Darkness’ army beneath obsidian and rubble. The best part is — they won’t ever pester me for more dynamite again!

Diary Entry #0113

The Dynamite Catastrophe of 1ADL shall remain in the memory of my various peoples for many, many years. Much obsidian did break, and even more was broken by these invaders who would end me…Do they have no respect for the work put into Fulcrum? Ten days did it take me to create, and ten more did I need until I filled it with men and women and beasts and monsters, and even with kobolds.

In hindsight, I might’ve exercised more wisdom in my choice.

Diary Entry #0114

I have spent the day and night on the frontline, fighting and collecting shards of obsidian. Well does it cut the skin of dragons, and even better does it cut their hearts.

Which I know purely out of some volumes of forgotten lore. Never would I kill these nearly extinct creatures in such a clearly unethical way…

Very well, I mustn’t lie…I killed several dragons today in revenge for mine obsidian.

Please don’t inform DEMD*.

Diary Entry #0115

A small victory at the price of a great loss. On this day I, the Dark Lord *******, have destroyed the enemy’s greatest sorcerous creations – great constructs of liquid metal, cursed to extinguish mine life. Alas, they were not up to the task.

I am distraught to say, however that to destroy them, I had to break down the great dark clouds above Fulcrum…the sun is shining down on me as I write these words, and slaughter orcs and goblins. I do believe I am getting a tan, and also, that strange organisms are spawning unto the soil.

Grass, my experts believe it to be. Food might also grow eventually, if nurtured with something else than a tincture of orc and man-blood.

I positively loathe the idea already.

(*Demons For the Ethical Murder of Dragons.)

Thank you for reading. The Dark Lord’s adventures will continue next Wednesday!

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Vol. 3 — Education

Diary Entry #0099

My capital is under siege. Seven Dark Lords and their armies are upon me and mine, and much malice is in their hearts. Even more malice is in their sharpened blades, but that seems secondary to me. The blades are almost as tiny as the corpses of my soldiers that they’re stuck in.

A great melancholy does come upon me when I think of the malice in these hearts.

Such waste, to see so much malice go in my direction, when there’s heroes to kill, winter spirits to maim…

Diary Entry #0100

I write this as I do battle. It has proven a most extraordinary experience.  Thoroughly rewarding.

I have slain many a dozen of wretched monstrosities. Ogres. Ettin. Several creatures that were neither ogre, nor ettin, and yet were more impressive than both.

Despite mine thirsty blade and dreadfully sordid expression and actions, mine hordes of supreme evil seem prone to fall.

Ah! Here comes the Demibourbon, my ever-envious adversary in the Council of Darkness!  He challenges me. It shall be a fine battle, indeed!

I now write these dots with the blood of mine fallen enemy, and tears stream down mine eyes. His was a fate far too dishonourable for one such as he.

A childe, of age 12 – from the plantations far down South in mine lands – did shoot him with an arrow in his eyes. Aye, eyes. How they went through his ensorcelled helmet, I do not know; I know only that mine glorious combat has been denied to me.

Alas, poor Fallen Gods! I need must find a worthy adversary.

Who gives these children arrows?

I shall hang him! And burn him! And stick him on a spike!

An arrow just stuck itself into mine Royal Adviser. Perhaps it IS time to retreat, as he and his colleagues keep screeching at me.

Diary Entry #101

The first walls of the city have fallen. Mine dark obsidian doth break too easily.

I have ordered that children are to be discouraged from using weapons, and be put into libraries instead, and learnt to read and write. That way, none shall take my adversaries out.