Unintentionally Helpful Villain #15:

Diary Entry #215

Ah, my sweet perdition has ended! And to think that I have one of my very own Librarians to thank for it! A nice enough lad, and bright, too–to save me from the throng of half-catatonic Inquisitors–while I’m slowly roasted upon a pyre, no less!

I have named this Librarian the Head Librarian, and have banished his original name unto the Infernal Tempest. He doth not seem very pleased at all by this turn of events. He groans and bemoans my choice, this Head Librarian.

He’ll get over it!

Diary Entry #216

Mine Head Librarian has finally recovered from the loss of his name. He has taken the time to tell me the tale of his discovery that mine body has been in use by an imposter — mine ex-wife. Thus goes his tale:

As My Lord knows, we few remaining Librarians remained behind along with Your Lordship’s champions, to await your return. When first you–rather, your body– returned from the underground of Kresh, we had very well taken ahold of it, and prepared to annex it into the Realm. To everyone in the camp’s chagrin, you ordered us to free the prisoners, to turn the newly-converted Library building to dust, and to ride away. 

We didn’t know what to think. As we moved northwards, a series of events served to confuse us much further; as we made camp near a brook, it was none other than you, Lordship, that ran along to fetch water for our sick and wounded. Later, you offered your pale horse to the Prime Librarian, Sven, as he had taken an arrow to the elbow from a twelve year old child. You also did not order the child be commended as we have witnessed you to do, but punished its entire village. 

As your loyal subjects, Sire, we are used to a certain amount of…aberrant behaviour where your royal decisions are concerned. Your Lordship will forgive me for saying so but there is a certain mercurial side to your magnanimous character. No, no, don’t blush, my Lord, I speak truth. 

When your…imposter, for lack of a better work, allowed another to ride your horse, we knew we were dealing with something altogether different from our true master. So it was that I volunteered my services to return to Kresh, and to seek out the truth behind your change. 

Your…wife, is it, Sire? gave me permission to leave when I told her my darling, old grandmother had health issues several towns away. There is something disconcerting about your gauntleted hand offering me a healing salve to take on the road; that’s what I used on all the burnt flesh, Dark Lord, it works rather well, doesn’t it?

As I got to Kresh, I heard more and more rumors of strange happenings — villages gone rampant against men, magical animals disappearing, a traveling rabbit-beast–werebunny, Lordship?–do forgive me; and much more, besides. 

I seemed to miss you time and time again; until I heard of a woman that refused to die within enchanted flames, a witch that refused to give up on her sinful ways in so terrible a way that one Inquisitor crier had passed on, and another was on the edge between life and death. That is when I knew.

The rest, Lordship, is history. Now that you are well-rested, we should be on our way.

So he spoke, the Head Librarian, and so I found myself moved almost to a murder spree; so strong was the bond of loyalty that mine men have for me, and so well do they know me! Never would I have thought anyone so familiar with mine character.

Now, of course, I might have to murder this Sven, for he is in direct competition with the Head Librarian, but alas — the road ahead is clear.

“Lead on, minion!” I say, and so we go, to kill Sven!

And also, to punish mine ex-wife for her traitorous body-switching ways.

 

Unintentionally Helpful Villain #14: Karogar, Cursed Be Its Name

Read the previous entry here. Read the first entry in the series here.

Diary Entry #200

Ah, Karogar. The birthplace of mine own greatest failure.

It’s a filthy place, filled with pampered humans, haughty elves and bored, rich dwarves. Artists! Each one will tell you that’s what they are, and they’ll smile and look at you with thinly veiled arrogance, all the while explaining how your art has no merit!

Pish posh. What could possibly have ‘artistic merit’ if not the myriad shades of blood?!

If mine memory serves me right and proper, ’twas five days that  I spent within this accursed city. Here it was that I first lay within a great wide bark — and dreamed the dark dreams that led me to mine great empire. The empire mine wife even now plots to destroy with mine old body, mine own arcane strength!

Bah, I am salivating profusely once again. Mine magical quill begins scribbling away whenever I allow this wrath take over mine better self.

Diary Entry #201

Mine search for the ex-wife hath proven fruitless. What I did find was a small army of Inquisitors, all too ready for mine appearance in the Art Halls of Karogar.

Aye, they hath caught me, and bound mine skin with rope. They remain obsessed with my witch’s magicks, no matter what I offer them. I cannot change in form, for they have enchantments keeping me locked unto this ridiculous body.

And yes, I am dictating unto mine magical quill through magical means. Do not question it.

Diary Entry #202

I have now offered mine captors a number of treasured items and experiences: several painful and gruesome ways to die; crossbow bolts to their knee caps; precious last words with their significant others, children and elder relatives; a mountain of goblin shite.

I hear that goblin shite is much appreciated by humans for the variety of medicinal values that can be found within it.

The Inquisitorial Order still refuses to release me from mine bindings.

Diary Entry #205

The Church of the Holy Blame hath pronounced that there is much to blame about mine feminine wiles. A crier has been crying out crimes, real and imagined, for the past three days now.

I have been tied to a balefire for some time, waiting for the Inquisitor-boy to finish mine list of grievances. Or mine wife’s. There is a surprising amount of overlap.

It is mildly uncomfortable.

Diary Entry #210 

The young man that hath read mine great list of crimes, real or imagined, hath perished due to lack of breath. Another took his place. Might some fiend light the stake already?

Diary Entry #211 

This is torture! Such monotonous voice, such inept usage of words, one coming after the other. I cannot stand it anymore!

Diary Entry #212 

I hath attempted to break my bonds. While not fully successful, I hath managed to grab a torch and set the stake afire. It has burned now for one whole day. I feel the most terrible itch on my calf from the fire.

The monotonous boy-creature will not shut up. Where do they find these fanatics?!

Diary Entry #213

‘Tis enchanted wood. It simply won’t stop burning. The young Inquisitor will not shut up.

I will not die. I will instead laugh at them all! At the fire, at the lad, at their ineptitude in killing witches! What fools, what blithering, magnificent idiots!

But who might that be, in the distance? Doth mine feline eyes deceive me?!

Thank you for reading the latest Unintentional Villain adventure! I needed to take a few weeks easy, to rediscover my awful inner comedian, but now I’m back, and my vision for the series and the blog — restored and stronger than ever! I’m pretty much like Palpatine in that one Revenge of the Sith scene. In order to ensure the security and continuing stability of this blog, Magnus Writes will be reorganized into the *BLANK* to ensure progress and awesome fantastical shenanigans! 

 

 

 

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain #13: A Horrible Truth

Diary Entry #0197

Seventeen-score men died unto that faithful night whence I chose to lead the disgruntled women–wives, grandmothers and daughters, one and all–against the brutal injustice of the patriarchy. The next morning they all wept and came to regret their actions. Their tears should’ve touched me…but only filled me with great distaste for all of humanity.

Thus did I learn that mine wife’s body can persuade men and women to act as its inhabitant demands of them. I attempted to call this ‘Feminine wiles’ but, alas, my ensorcelled quill–which acts as my sometime editor–took issue with this particular term of endearment.

Bah, if only I had the limitless magical energies that lay within mine vessel, mine body! Then I wouldn’t need suffer unwanted editorial opinions such as this.

Diary Entry #0198

I left the unnamed town, with its predominantly female population, behind me. I took A Horrible Truth with me, of course; such fine artwork has no place in a rundown little town with no name.

I particularly enjoy the strokes of the brush that painted it… Especially as they have been made by my own gauntleted hand. There is but one place in this insipid human kingdom in which mine wife would go, if she is pursuing the life of an artist.

Karogar, cursed be its name.

 

 

The Unintentionally Helpful Villain, Volume #12: Social Upheaval

Diary Entry #0190

Mine powers of tracking have proven useless in the quest to discover where Amara, mine treacherous, body-snatching former wife, has ran off to. I will not give up, however. She cannot hide for long.

Diary Entry #0191

I came across an apple merchant today. Apples, he told me, blessed by the gauntleted hand of the Dark Lord himself!

I did freeze in my spot as these words left the human’s lips. What fortuitous happenstance that this man should cross mine exact path!

Not nearly as fortuitous was the trader’s ability to answer mine benign questions; why, I had plucked merely one of his eyes out with my claws when he did succumb to the terrible finality of death.

I hope my Librarians are working on ways to deal with that entire ‘death’ debacle before too long.

The poor apple merchant did scream two words before his last breath did get expunged from his body. “Golden…! Superb…!” or something of the sort. Curious man, that one.

His apples are spectacular, however. I have now taken his cart, and will pretend to be a vendor of apple-ish delights!

Diary Entry #0193

I came across a small town today. The tracks of the merchant led me here, and so it was my hope that I would find mine wife doing whatever it is that body-snatching wives do when they’re not busy being dreadful.

A big deal for me, this; first small town I walked into, since being cursed within this wretched body. First one I didn’t rip apart with mine wererabbit teeth. Ah, but how I wished to!

Upon mine entry into the market, I was immediately attacked–but not by peasants with forks, as I have come to expect from small towns. Nay, I was instead assaulted by men whose sensibilities had been offended. They decried mine advances upon the ‘honorable business of trade and free market that only good, King-kissed men have any business doing,’ and then proceeded to explain how mine presence would be much better appreciated in the ‘werehouse.’

Unnerving was their knowledge of my nature as shapeshifting wererabbit, and so I demanded they tell me if the ‘Dark Lord’ had left word to deter me from mine quest. I do not believe any of them heard me; so loud was their constant prattling. I did not much care to listen any further, and so I took my cart and left.

Later did I find an inn; I have heard of these places, of course, through mine many worldly affairs. Did not expect so much ogling to be taking place inside. Questioning the men as to the dangers that excessive staring might bring upon their bloodshot eyes was reason for laughter alone. None would explain to me! Thoughts of ripping their spines until they could laugh no longer came quickly upon me, but I persevered; for I did not wish to announce mine arrival.

A maid-like girl then took me away, and so she explained to me things. Such oppressive things did she tell me, that I was filled with fervor and so, before the night was done, I… led a revolt and so slaughtered every ogling fool in town.

It was only later that I discovered A Horrible Truth.

 

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!