Make way for the REAL Storm King.

Chapter 1
A deal with a devil.

Everyone has fantasies, and pretty much everyone at one point or another has thought about what it would be like to be the Hero of the story. Fight the good fight, beat the bad guy, get the girl, all that jazz. But tell me, haven’t you ever considered what it would be like to be the Big Bad instead?

Maybe a mighty warlord, or perhaps a supervillain? To be the one in power, making the rules instead of having to do as others say. Someone like Darth Vader perhaps or Lex Luthor. Maybe someone like Sauron or Thulsa Doom, or whoever else you can think of that suits your fancy.

And what if you were given the opportunity to make that fantasy a reality, would you accept?

Well I was given the option, and I wasn’t about to say no. After all, I had little to lose, or so I thought at the time. I just didn’t realise how high a price I would have to pay in the end; didn’t fully grasp the reality of what it meant, until it was far too late to back out.

Oh well, no crying over spilled blood.

It all started on what had to be the crappiest day of my life up till then, it was the perfect shitstorm to bring out the worst in someone, and that alone should have been my first clue that something was wrong.

It was a rainy evening, and yeah, isn’t that a cliché. I was working a job stocking shelves at the local supermarket. It was a crap job with long hours and little pay, but I had no choice since bills needed to be paid. It was late into my shift, and I had just finished with the last of the restocking when my asshole of a boss called me into his office. Long story short, I got fired. He offered some flimsy excuses, but I knew the only reason I was laid off was because he had hired two students earlier in the week who would do the job for less money.

“Sorry man, that’s just the way it goes sometimes.” He said far too cheerfully as I walked out of his office.

I didn’t bother with a response, there was simply nothing left to say and I was seething with anger, wondering how good it would feel to grind his smug face under my bootheel. The shifty fucker waited till I finished all the work for the day before he fired me. A nice heap of salt to rub into the proverbial wound. I walked out into the rain, but not before snatching an expensive bottle of whiskey and stuffing it in my backpack. Consider it my severance pay.

I hopped on the first bus towards my apartment. It was still a long walk from the nearest bus stop though. The streets were pretty much deserted at this hour. Especially with the pouring rain. I really hate the rain. Fortunately I was almost home, I just had to pass through a tunnel and then one more block up. As I walked I fished my phone out of my pocket and hit the speed dial.

“Hello?” the voice of my girlfriend sounded in my ear.

“Hey babe, it's me. Listen, I need to cancel for saturday.”

“What? Why?”

“My jerkass of a boss just gave me the boot. So I need the time to find a new job. Money will be tight for a while. I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess now is as good a time as any to say this.” She replied.

“Say what babe?”

“I’ve been seeing someone else. Someone who really gets me. Who can give me what I need.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, “But… I thought we had a good thing going?”

“Look, It’s not you…. No actually it IS you. You’re just such a gigantic nerd. With all the sci-fi and the games, and those little plastic dolls...”

“They are wargaming miniatures...”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about, you’re just too immature. I need a guy who gets me what I need. Someone who will treat me to fancy dinners instead of takeout.”

“So this is really about money.” I replied, my tone hardening.

“This is about my needs, you just don’t get it.”

“No, I think I do get it. Have fun with your own little plastic toy you cold hearted bitch!!!” I said before hanging up.

In a sudden flare of rage I flung the phone away. Goddamnit, what did I do to deserve this? I let out an unintelligible scream to vent my frustration. Its echoes sounding loudly in the tunnel I just passed. As my anger settled I began to regret tossing my phone and went to look for it. I found it lying in a puddle of rainwater, its screen and casing cracked. I tried turning it on, but the water had seeped in and shorted it out completely.

“....... Fuck.” I mumbled weakly.

With a feeling of heaviness I finally entered my apartment building and dragged myself up the stairs. The worn floorboards of the hallway seemed even more depressing than usual. I slid my key into the lock and turned… only for nothing to happen. I tried again, rattling the handle, and still the lock wouldn’t budge. Only when I Looked up did I finally see the document taped to my door.

‘Notice of Eviction.’

That saw me banging on the landlords door and screaming at his half drunk, useless ass for nearly fifteen minutes to no avail. I couldn’t even get my stuff out. How the bloody buggering hell did this happen? What sort of crime did I commit in a previous life to reap this assload of crap karma? Was I some horrible puppy kicker or what?

I stood on the buildings front steps for half an hour wondering what to do, shielded from the rain by the small overhang. It didn't stop the chill from worming its way into my bones though. All I had were the clothes on my back, the contents of my backpack, and my wallet, until I could get into the place to get the rest of my stuff. Maybe I could crash at a friends place for the night. If I hurried I could just catch the last bus. I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders and started to walk back towards the bus stop.

As I walked down the tunnel again, I was suddenly overcome by a sense of vertigo. I stumbled briefly, and when I regained my footing I noticed I was suddenly walking on a hardwood floor instead of concrete tiles. I looked up in surprise and found myself in the middle of a vast, moonlit store. Dark cabinets and display racks stood all around me, and a multitude of paraphernalia hung from the rafters.

“Welcome to my store.” Said an oddly familiar man with a large well groomed beard, standing behind a display counter as he closed an antique cash register. Even more notable than his beard was the paisley pattern tuxedo vest he wore. Its colors so eye wateringly bright that even a blind gay guy would go “Christ honey, tone it down. That vest is loud!”

With my brain struggling to keep up I just stood there dumbstruck as I desperately tried to gather my thoughts.

“Wait, hang on… how did I get here? I was walking through a tunnel and...”

“My store is not bound by walls or limited by inventory. It’s one not governed by convention, or restricted by time. The only rule here is to untether your imagination, and release it on the universe.” He said, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I’m afraid you lost me there.” I said, but he seemed undeterred as he spoke.

“There’s a reason you’re here. It’s in your blood. A primal need to pitch yourself against the unknown. Your kind thrive at the brink, you flourish under uncertainty. But to do so dear shopper, requires the very finest of wares.”

“Look man, you got a great sales pitch, but I have no idea what it is you’re trying to sell. Or if I’m even interested for that matter. I got enough shit to deal with right now.” I said, but again he seemed unphased. If anything his eyes sparkled with even greater enthusiasm.

“What do I sell?” Said the man, a smirk appearing on his face. ”What I sell, is glorious pandemonium. A glimmer of oblivion, mastery over time and space, and Instant immortality. I sell a peak at the abyss, a catalog of quests, and the occasional nightmare.”

As he spoke, cabinets lit up, displaying the wares within. An incredible mixture of weapons and armor, both of the fantasy and science fiction varieties. There were swords and guns, axes and lightsabers, daggers and plasma rifles. Partially assembled power armor, and tomes glowing with spells. There were objects I cannot even begin to describe. Mysterious orbs of power whose functions I could only guess at, and tiny hunter killer drones that twitched and beeped as if eager to get to work. A dragonborn helmet sat in a display adjacent to a mannequin draped in assassins robes. There were knick knacks and scrolls, even entire vehicles. I caught glimpses of shadowy monsters, lurking behind doors I hadn’t noticed before, and various artificial eyes tracking me from every corner, nook and cranny.

“What I sell, is life and death itself. The real question is…. What are you looking for?”

The moment he asked that question I felt as if something ancient and powerful was gazing at my very soul. Scrutinising it from every conceivable angle, and beyond. I could feel my heart skip a beat.

Swallowing to ease my now dry throat I asked: “Who are you?”

“Me?” the man smiled. “I’ve had many, many names and I’ve inspired many more. I’ve been known as Anansi the Spider, Iktomi, Maui, Rumplestiltskin, Kutkh, Azeban the Trickster Raccoon, Hermes, Dolos, Mister Mxyzptlk, Puck, Susanoo, Loki and Daucina. But you can just simply call me, The Shopkeeper.”

“This… this can’t be real. This is some kind of hoax right? Some hidden camera show? Come on out guys, joke’s over.”

“Oh this is very real my friend. In here, in this place of wonders and terrors, all your hopes, dreams, your desires, your fondest wishes and your darkest fantasies; All of them are for sale.”

“Look, there has to be some kind of mistake. I mean why bring me here of all people? I’m just a nobody.”

“And are you not entitled to dream, mister nobody?” Asked the shopkeeper.

The lights seemed to dim and the atmosphere felt strangely heavy as the shopkeeper spoke.

“Who are you, not to be great? Just think. You, with the imagination of a brilliant child and the powers of an ancient god. Who are you to be ordinary? You, who can rescind life, or raise the dead.

Who are you to be afraid? You who can serve as judge and jury while hoarding infinite lives. Who are you to be a slave to the past? You who can travel time like the oceans and rewrite history with a single word. Who are you to be anonymous? You whose name should be spoken in reverent tones, or in terrified whispers.

Who are you to deny greatness? If you would deny it to yourself, you deny it to the entire universe. And we will not be denied.”

His words made my head swim, made me think of the possibilities. If this was real, if anything was for sale here... I could attain whatever I desired. Become whoever I desired to be. Whatever I scarcely dared to dream. There was only one problem though.

“What you’re offering sounds... fantastic, but I don’t think I could afford it.” I said.

“Nonsense, my prices are very reasonable. A small payment up front, plus a favor owed once you’ve achieved your goals.”

And there’s the catch.

“What sort of favor?” I asked.

“You are a massive geek who loves many things, including superhero cartoons. So undoubtedly you are familiar with the multiverse theory.”

I nodded dumbly.

“There is a war coming. A war between others of my kind and their chosen champions. A one of a kind battle that will determine which one of us will inherit the multiverse. When the time comes, you and as many or as few allies and subordinates as you choose to bring along, will fight for my side, together with my other champions and their forces.”

“Wait, let me get this straight. You want me to fight in an interdimensional war, with the patron of the winning side, a.k.a you, becoming God King of the multiverse?”

“And in return I sell you whatever you desire. And when we are victorious you can return to rule over whatever little region of the multiverse you manage to carve out for yourself.”

“But if you are that powerful, what do you and the others need us for?”

“To circumvent the big triple A.” He said as if it was obvious.

At my blank expression he elaborated. “Absolute Assured Annihilation. We cannot fight each other directly. Doing so would sunder the whole of reality beyond even our ability to fix. That is why we are organising this grand campaign.”

“And what’s to stop you from just taking it all away once you rule? As soon as we hand you the throne you could snap your fingers and depower us all back to helpless little mortals.”

“Every sale is like a contract. It is legal, binding, and absolutely unbreakable, even for me. Whatever power you buy, I cannot take away, neither through direct or indirect action on my part. The only thing that could take it away would be your own stupidity. Like, say, you buy the one true ring, and then foolishly lose it to some midgets who toss it into a volcano.” the shopkeeper stated.

That at least put some of my worries to rest. But I had more to ask, and said: “What If I want your powers?”

“I fear those are outside your budget. Anything else… is fair game.”

“So you could just make me king of the world?”

“No, this is not like a genie wish. Well, not exactly. You don’t just rub a lamp and poof, you are the king. However, I can sell you the means to become a king. I provide you with the tools, but then it is up to you to do the actual legwork.”

He motioned to the various displays behind him.

“I could sell you an eyepatch that will make you a great swordsman. But you would still need to acquire your own sword. Or perhaps a hat that will make you a genius strategist. But you would still need to recruit an army. I could sell you items that grant you the ability to travel through time and change things, but it is up to you to actually make the changes stick.”

He moved over to another display, inside which floated a roughly spherical blob of brightly colored energy.

“I can sell you the means to become strong. As strong as what you would consider a God. But learning how to wield that power is up to you, I’m under no obligation to provide further instructions. Consider it something of a tutorial. A trial run to sharpen your skills before you join the big game.”

He leaned forward on the counter, looking me in the eye with an unsettling smile saying, “And besides, it’s like a very old friend of mine once said: “Half the fun of being a conquering emperor is in the actual conquering.” I do miss Genghis Khan.”

A conqueror. His words resonated with me. As I said before, I can’t be the only one who’s ever fantasised about what I’d do if I was Darth Vader. For one I’d force choke the life out of my ex boss, and my landlord. And there’s a list of school bullies who’d have a severe beating coming their way if I had the means. The dark spark of forbidden desire in my heart was quickly blazing into a bonfire. And like a moth I flew into the flames, heedless of any danger.

“I can tell you like the thought of being a conqueror. Your kind always did desire power over most other things. Not a very original purchase, but who am I to deny the customer.”

As he spoke, he lifted a book from a drawer and placed it down on the countertop. As I stepped closer he pushed the book towards me. The cover was bound in black leather, the title was embossed in red metallic letters.

The Evil Overlord’s Comprehensive Compendium.

A self updating reference guide.

Contains anything and everything one needs to know to become a successful Overlord.

“You’re joking right?” I said.

“I never joke, dear shopper.” Said the shopkeeper. “Well, not when making a sale anyway.”

“I can find this on the internet. The evil overlord’s list. It’s nothing new.”

“But this book contains so much more.” Said the shopkeeper with a sly smile.

“You need laser guns for your armies of doom?” He said as he flipped open the book. It landed on a page that showed exactly how to build a functioning laser weapon. “This book will tell you how to do it using locally available materials. When it says everything it really means everything. Whoever wields the knowledge within this book will become a mad genius.”

“Fuck me sideways.” I said as I leafed through the book. It really did contain pretty much anything I could think of that an evil overlord of any sort could possibly need. From magic swords to space jet fighters.

“How much?” I stammered, barely able to get the words out.

“How much do you have?” Asked the shopkeeper.

I pulled out my wallet. I had a hundred bucks or so left and showed him so.

“That will do.” said the shopkeeper.

Then a thought struck me. “Wait, what if I lose the book, or someone steals it? Or if something were to happen to it.”

“Then you are out of luck. Once the book is yours it’s your responsibility to keep it safe. I make no guarantees.”

“Hang on, is there some way to… to link me to the book. Make it teleport to me or… or better yet, transfer the knowledge from the book directly into my brain? Some device or other means?”

“Oh I like you, dear customer. Most would not think of this until after they'd already lost it. Perhaps something can be arranged, but what will you offer in payment?” Asked the shopkeeper.

My face fell. I had nothing left… except. I took off my backpack and unzipped it, fishing out the bottle of whiskey I pinched earlier.

“Sold.” smirked the shopkeeper and pulled out a star filled orb from below the counter, placing it atop the book. “I always did have a weak spot for good liquor.”

After handing the bottle over I picked up the orb. “So how does this work?”

“It works very well.” smirked the shopkeeper.

Before I could reply I was overcome by the mother of all migraines. It felt like someone had taken a fire axe to my skull, and my whole body felt like I was being squeezed through a straw. I smashed into the counter, barely staying upright as an endless flood of information bombarded my brain. Just as I felt like I was going to pass out, the stream of information stopped. I leaned against the counter, panting and sweating. That was horrible.

“There, one knowledge transfer link established. You still require the book, but as long as the book is in the same dimension as you, you can access its knowledge anywhere simply by thinking about it.”

As the world stopped spinning and the pounding in my skull ceased, I thought of some of the basic Do’s and Don’ts for evil overlords. The knowledge popped into my head nearly instantly. Next I tried to recall the laser gun schematics, and the knowledge and skills required to build one rose to the surface of my mind in an instant. A wicked smile split my lips.

With this book I could truly become someone like, like Doctor Doom or Lord Recluse. Well, minus all the spider limbs because screw that. But hell, I could conquer the Earth.That is to say, first I would sell some of the designs and make a metric fuckton of money, then conquer the Earth.

“Well then.” I said as I picked up the book and stuffed it into my backpack, “This has been an experience. Now if you will excuse me, I have plans to hatch.”

“Yes, about that.” The shopkeeper replied, “This dimension has been designated as a primary recruitment ground for potential champions, and thus it is considered off limits when it comes to tampering. But don’t worry, I know the perfect world for you to subjugate. Do have fun.”

Before I could protest the floor beneath me opened up into a black vortex, swallowing me whole. As I was hurled through the void to an unknown destination, I began to think I made a terrible mistake.

A sudden impact ended my journey through the void. The air was blasted from my lungs as I hit the hard rocky ground. When I opened my eyes I found myself staring at a grey clouded sky. The only sound was the wind, accompanied by the distant rumble of thunder.

‘Do have fun’ the last words of the shopkeeper echo through my mind, making me seethe. “Where the hell did that treacherous bastard send me to?” I thought to myself. Its like some cliché Isekai manga. I thought I was going to be conquering the world, not.. whatever the fuck this place is.”

I sat up painfully to look around. My back felt like a giant bruise from that less than graceful landing. The terrain around me was rocky and mostly barren, save for some stubborn, pitiful foliage and moss that clung to the rocks. I appeared to be in a valley of some kind, judging by the surrounding mountains. Not the most hospitable of places. Spotting what seemed to be the outline of a town in the distance, I picked myself up and started to walk.

The walk to the town took a little while and I found nothing of interest along the way. Just more rocks and whatever pitiful amount of greenery that managed to scrape enough nutrients from the soil to survive. As I got nearer I found myself staring at the mismatched architecture of the buildings.

The town appeared like a hodgepodge of half finished projects, with no-one having a clue how to properly finish them. Some buildings were tall towers, while others were barely more than shacks. Some of the buildings were made of stone, others were made of wood. Some were a mix of the two, with missing walls having been roughly patched up with whatever was available. Some had tiled roofs, others were made of thatch or corrugated steel. And all of them seemed to be connected in some way by dozens of pipes that ran all over the place. As if some kind of demented spider had tried to spin a web of metal across the town. There was stuff piled up everywhere too. Boxes, crates and barrels containing who knows what. And then there were the people. I could not believe my eyes.

It felt as if I’d dropped into the Star Wars universe or something. This place was like fucking Mos Eisley meets Zootopia. There were creatures of every shape and size. Walking sharks and talking porcupines. Humanoid parrots as tall as me were haggling with what looked like some sort of Illithid. Shopkeepers were shouting, trying to attract customers to their stalls full of weird looking fruits and vegetables. I peered closer at a couple of them as they made a transaction, wondering what sort of currency they used here. They exchanged some kind of octagonal coin with a kind of X shaped lightning bolt symbol on it. They seemed to be made of iron, rather than precious metals.

“You lost or something?” Asked a shifty looking fish guy.

“That depends,” I answered casually, trying to play it cool, “what is the name of this place?”

“This is Bodge-town, fella. And we don’t take too kindly to strangers here.”

“That must be great for business.” I said sarcastically as I turned away.

“Oi, think yer funny do ya?” said one of his buddies. I could see where this was going.

“Maybe this fella needs a lesson in manners.” Said the biggest of the lot, who looked like some kind of walking catfish while cracking his knuckles.

I frantically tried to weigh my options when a small surge of information flooded my mind as my brain went into some kind of analytical overdrive. Clearly these were just a couple of street thugs, judging from their shabby apparel and crude mannerisms. Used to picking on the weak and relying on gang tactics. They did not appear to be carrying weapons, no visible knives or guns or anything of the sort. And they wore just the bare minimum of clothes, leaving virtually no places to hide any. Show no weakness, project confidence while destroying theirs. Take out the big one and there is an eighty-nine percent chance the rest will fold. Acquire a makeshift weapon, use extreme brutality.

Looking around I spotted the lid of a barrel. Now I’m not much of a fighter, but I can hold my own. Grabbing the wooden lid in both hands, I slammed it into catfish’s throat, edge first. As he grabbed his neck, struggling to breathe, I smashed him over the head with the lid. He dropped like a stone. Adopting an air of calmness and standing just that little bit straighter, I casually stepped over their downed comrade.

“Would anyone else like to try and educate me?”

None of them moved. They were staring at me wide eyed, as if I'd suddenly grown an extra head.

“No? Then I suggest you pick up your friend and get him some help.”

Once they carried off their downed buddy I found a quiet spot and let out a shaky breath, my hands trembling slightly from excess adrenaline in my system. I wasn't looking forward to doing that again. Hopefully the word will spread and the smalltime thugs will leave me alone. But I best be on guard in case they decide to come back with reinforcements. That’s the downside to such confrontations. There’s always the risk of them trying again with greater numbers. But I could worry about that later. For now I wanted to spend some time observing these… people. Maybe I could find a bar or something. But that would require money, which I didn’t have. But that was easy enough to fix with a little distract and loot.

A thought briefly crossed my mind, ‘Would it not be wrong to steal?’ But I crushed the idea as swiftly as it popped up. How could I become Overlord if I were to shy away from a little thing like theft. Now was not the time to second guess myself or worry about such minutiae.

Making my way back to the market street, I waited for another group of thugs to pass by. Casually picking up a small rock, I lobbed it at the nearest thug when no-one was looking. It hit him straight in the back of the head. I immediately ducked back into the alley and waited. Sure enough, within moments a fight had broken out, dragging a good portion of the streets occupants into the melee. Including the owners of the various stalls.

While they busied themselves trying to brain each other, I slipped behind said stalls and lifted the contents of their cash boxes before slipping away. My first villainous act, petty thievery, completed. Not very overlord worthy, but needs must. With coin in my pocket I made my way to the nearest watering hole.

It didn't take long to find. The place in question was a rackety saloon, complete with those little swinging doors you see in cowboy movies. It was close to the center of town, which I suppose made sense, since that was were people naturally gravitated towards. I looked at the sign above the door, baffled by the strange script.

“This could be a problem.” I thought to myself.

How was I going to find my way around the rest of this world if I couldn’t read the language. But then, as I stared at the sign, the script seemed to change before my eyes, becoming readable. Actually, the sign itself hadn’t changed a bit, rather my perception had changed. Apparently the mind link I have with the compendium comes with a universal translator of a sort.

“The Swill Trough, how inviting.” I muttered before pushing open the door.

The inside was surprisingly well lit for an otherwise shady looking place. As I pushed my way through the swinging doors, every head turned towards me. There were a dozen or so tables of various mismatched sizes. They even had a pianola stuffed in a corner, which was cranking out a surprisingly jaunty tune that seemed rather out of place for the overall atmosphere of the place. Projecting more confidence than I felt I marched straight up to the bar.

The bartender was a giant bipedal boar sporting a thick handlebar mustache. To round out the western cliché checklist, he was busy drying off a beer stein with a checkered dishcloth. One beady eye turned to regard me as leaned against the bar.

“What will it be?” he grunted.

“Something smooth, but not too heavy.” I replied. To which he produced a whiskey glass and a bottle of amber liquid.

Pouring a decent measure into the glass, he stoppered the bottle and pushed the glass towards me saying: “Six Storm Bucks.”

”So that’s what these coins are called.” I thought as I placed the iron coins on the bartop.

The bartender actually bit one to see if it was genuine. Seemingly satisfied he slid the coins into the till underneath the bar.

I studied the liquid in the glass for a moment, giving it an experimental sniff. It looked like Whisky, but it smelled more like Gin. Throwing my doubts aside I gave it a sip. The familiar tingly burn of alcohol enveloped my tongue. It tasted almost exactly like a Gin and Scotch cocktail I drank a long time ago. I swallowed my mouthful, enjoying the pleasant burn as it rushed down my throat. A content sigh escaped my lips. I really needed that.

My moment of bliss was interrupted by the creak of doors and an angry shout of “That’s him!”

The thugs from before, minus catfish were back. And they had brought reinforcements. A burly alligator looking guy, two more shark-like guys, and what looked to be a humanoid rat. And to top it all off they were brandishing clubs. My gut twisted with fear.

“Oi, not in here.” the bartender grunted. “Take it outside. Don’t need no blood on the furniture.”

“Gentlemen, please, there’s no need for violence. Let me buy you a drink by way of apology.” I said. My kingdom for a lightsaber right now.

With my attention so focused on the thugs in front, I never noticed the bartender grabbing a blackjack until it cracked across the back of my skull.

”motherfucker.” was all I could think before my world turned black.

Stars danced before my eyes as my vision returned, and my skull felt like someone had been dancing on it. I carefully reached back, finding an egg sized lump on the back of my skull. The rest of me wasn’t much better. They must have worked me over a bit because I felt battered and bruised all over. The floor beneath me vibrated and seemed to sway to one side before correcting itself. I rubbed my eyes, and slowly my vision sharpened. I was in a cage, and I wasn't alone. There were at least a dozen other beings in here with me.

“Wha? Where?” I said, my speech sounding a bit groggy. Just how long was I out?

A heavy metal spear slammed into the bars in front of me. I looked up to behold a tall humanoid creature covered in grey and white fur, wearing a heavy metal breastplate and an iron mask over its face.

“No talking!” It rumbled menacingly.

I waited silently until the thing moved off, then whispered to the nearest creature, who turned out to be some kind of lizard: “Where are we?”

“We’re on a storm ship. They are flying us to the mines.” She, judging by the voice, whispered back.

“Wait, what? This is a flying ship?”

“Well duh, how else would we get anywhere in a timely fashion.”

”so this world has some kind of aviation technology. But judging from the look of things its primitive at best.” I mused silently. My head was still pounding.

“You seem more concerned about the ship than being sold into slavery.” She said.

That brought my thoughts to a shrieking halt. Shit. Then another thought sent me into a panic. Where was my backpack?

“Have you seen a red backpack anywhere?” I asked lizard girl.

“They probably stuffed it with all the other possessions they took from us,” she said. “You best forget about it. You won't be getting it back.”

”Damnit damnit, how could I have let this happen?” I cursed under my breath. “I totally allowed myself to be suckerpunched.”

I focused my thoughts on the compendium, trying to find some kind of information to get me out of here. Various things came to mind, including how to make a lockpick, but I had nothing on hand to make a lockpick with. And if we were in the air, where was I gonna go? Not to mention that hairy thing from before looked rather strong. I'm no wimp, despite being a human of the nerdy variety, but I doubt I could win against something that had about as much bulk as a silverback gorilla.

“What was that guard thing?” I asked my companion.

“Are you for real?” She asked me wide eyed.

“Humor me.”

“Those are Storm Beasts. They serve the Storm King.”

“And who is that?”

“You really aren’t from around here, are you?” she said dryly.

“What gave it away?”

She let out a grumble. “The Storm King is Emperor of all the Storm Lands.”

“Shouldn’t he be the Storm Emperor then?”

“You’d think that, but the guy fancies the title of King, I guess. Nobody is gonna disagree, he’s the boss after all.”

“Judging from his servants,” I motioned my thumb at one of the Storm beasts at the far side of the hold, “I take it this Storm King isn’t the nicest of rulers.”

“What? The slavery not enough evidence for you?” she snarked, “He’s the biggest tyrant since the disappearance of the Crystal Empire.”

“NO TALKING!” roared another storm beast as it slammed its spear against the cage bars, scaring the shit out of us. It aimed the spear through the bars, straight at my chest. I quickly held my arms up in surrender. “You talk again, we throw you overboard!”

I nodded quickly, ignoring the pounding in my skull the motion created.

We spent the rest of the trip in silence, not wanting a one way ticket overboard since we’re well over two hundred meters in the air. I’m just glad I’m not afraid of heights.

I must have dozed off again at some point, because the next thing I knew someone was roughly prodding me awake.

“On your feet. We almost here.” Rumbled the guard.

Before long a thump went through the ship and we were told to get on deck. We had apparently arrived. The ship had actually touched down on the ground. I half expected it to tether itself to a tower or something. We exited into the dusty air of a mining camp. There were Storm Beast guards everywhere. In the distance beyond the town, a castle loomed. Dark banners flapping in the wind, displaying the symbol of the Storm King. Before long we were shoved into a longhouse looking building. A thick iron collar was fitted around our necks, and a pickaxe shoved into our hands before we were marched down into the mining pit. Thank the maker it was a strip mine and not a traditional one. I didn't fancy being underground in the dark.

“Dig!” one of the guards bellowed once we arrived at a vein of ore.

I tightened my grip on the pickaxe and prepared to deliver my first swing.

It has been three days since we were brought here. Three days of grueling work, swinging picks, pushing carts and carrying raw ore. My hands are blistered and raw from swinging the pickaxe and my shoulders and back are killing me. I'm tired, hungry and thirsty. We are barely given enough sleep, and the food they provide, if they provide any at all, is old and stale.

The only thing that’s keeping me on my feet right now is hatred. Pure, undiluted hatred. The kind of hate you feel all the way in your bones. I guess this is Karma getting back at me for wanting to become a supervillain.

I gnashed my teeth as I seethed in silence. ”Fuck karma, fuck my life, fuck that shopkeeper and fuck the motherfucking Storm King. I will kill that bastard if it’s the last thing I do.” I swore quietly to myself.

Little did I know that chance would come all too soon.

I think maybe another week passed by. It became hard to tell with the endless work and exhaustion setting in.

My pick struck the iron rich rock for what felt like the gazillionth time, and chunks and splinters fell to the ground before being shoveled into the rickety mining cart. As we pushed the heavy cart up the track out of the pit a pair of guards approached.

“YOU!” one of them bellowed, pointing at me. All the other slaves hurriedly took a step away from me. “You come with us!”

I racked my brain trying to think of a reason, any reason they could possibly want me.

“What?” I asked stupidly, earning me a punch to the head and I hit the ground with stars dancing in front of my eyes.

“No talking, you come with us. Storm King wants to see you.”

I didn't have a clue as to why that would be the case, not unless… unless he’s been going through my possessions. There's not a lot in my backpack. My phone, my MP3 player, some knickknacks, and the compendium. This could be my chance.

Before I had the chance to formulate a plan I was being hauled off the ground and frogmarched up the path. The town passed by in a half blur, because most of the time my head was pushed towards the ground. What glimpses I did catch of it showed a pretty basic, or what I imagined a pretty basic mining town to look like. But there were signs of poverty everywhere. Most of the buildings looked worn down, with many a boarded up window because the glass was broken. The inhabitants all looked either miserable, indifferent or completely apathetic.

The castle itself was an entirely different matter. Constructed of stone and steel. It's dark walls just screamed ‘Tyrants Home’ at you. It all looked ridiculously lavish on the inside. Dark marble, rich woods. And everything filled to the brim with valuables. Or at least I assumed it was all valuable, since I have no eye for such things. I can’t tell a ming vase from a piece of Ikea pottery.

At long last we came upon a set of double doors, and one of my guards knocked heavily upon it before it creaked open.

Time to meet this Storm King.