This is a complete scene just after the Dark Lord meets his body twin, the barbarian Hurak. Also in the scene is the Minion and Hurak's help Ernie, a wizard's apprentice.
Both the Dark Lord and Hurak are bored with their own lives, both seeking something different.
The parts in italics are author comments. Throughout the writing I've added in small anecdotes. Sort of like Terry Pratchett footnotes or Douglas Adams Hitchhiker asides. I've kept them in the flow of the text.
1139 words.
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The tavern was gloomy and fortunately empty.
They all sat round a large, scarred and unsteady table, hands or in the Minion’s case, hand aside a large tankard of a frothy liquid that the owner assured them was his best ale.
Hurak took a long swig and wiped his mouth up his arm leaving a damp snail trail of scummy foam. “Right, so who are you exactly and why are you wearing a copy of my body?”
“Where to start,” mused the Dark Lord.
The Minion waggled a finger.
“I suppose.” The Dark Lord patted the Minion. “At the start and skip the boring bit’s.” He turned his attention back to Hurak, took a swig himself and belched loudly.
“Nice one,” complimented the barbarian subconsciously.
“Thank you. Well, have you heard of the nefarious evil that is the Dark Lord?”
“Everyone knows of the Dark Lord. He gets resurrected every few hundred years or so. Implements the same simple plan for world domination, causes a huge amount of annoyance for a few years until he gets killed either by a hero wielding a legendary weapon or a hero destroying some unique artifact linked to his dark soul.”
“Ah yes… I see that you know your history. Hold on, what? What do you mean by the same simple plan? They’ve all been meticulously planned.”
“Yes, to be exactly the same. It’s a first year topic at any adventurer school. You’d think by now he’d have worked out why he kept being defeated.” Hurak laughed and nudged Ernie who joined in.
“Oh, right.” The Dark Lord’s shoulders slumped and he took another swig. “Fine, be that as it is. Each time the Dark Lord comes back he’s in a new form to catch his enemies unaware.”
“Yes but he always appears at Forlorn Castle. So whether he’s a mummy or a necromancer or a liche king, it’s all immaterial. Everyone knows who it is.”
“Ah, I see” taking another swig. The Minion patted him on the shoulder in consolation. “So has anyone ever been afraid? Has he ever caused panic and despair with his evilness?”
“According to my teachings he’s more of a frustration. Like an annoying itch that you get between your shoulder blades that causes you to squirm around until you catch it with the right scratch.” Hurak turned to Ernie for confirmation.
“That’s right,” confirmed the apprentice. “That doesn’t explain why you have…”
Ernie was stopped in mid sentence by Hurak’s hand slapping across his mouth.
Silence descended in the tavern.
This was not difficult as they were the only ones there but tales always have to have these dramatic pauses.
Give it a bit.
They’ll start off again soon.
Ready.
Any second now.
“You’re him aren’t you?”
There you go.
“Yes,” murmured The Dark Lord.
The apprentice scrabbled at Hurak’s hand, eyes popping out of his head. “Calm down Ernie.” He turned back to the Dark Lord. “My learning is telling me to lop off your head but my nose for trouble is not giving me any sniffs at all. So, if you are the Dark Lord, why are you wearing my body and why aren’t you at your castle setting in place the same old tired routine?”
The Dark Lord leaned back. “The Minion can explain about the body. As to why I’m here? Boredom mixed with an affliction I’ve come to come ‘A touch of the barbarians’.”
“Boredom and what?”
“I have these weird urges like to drink ale till I fall over. I dread seeing attractive women cause I feel the need lay them over my shoulder and escape. Then there’s the axe. Why? I mean it’s a bloody heavy thing to lug about everywhere by hand. It’s giving me a right pain in the back. I kicked a door in the other night. I’m evil and all that but I’ve never kicked a door in. I have others to do that for me.” The Dark Lord downed what was left in his tankard and subconsciously grabbed the Minion’s.
Hurak nodded, definite barbarian tendencies. “Right, so the boredom?”
“You said it. I’m reincarnated, I reform my army and try and conquer the world. I’ve done it seven times before. It’s getting a bit wearing, you know what I mean? So I decided to take a road trip, see the world, try and get back to the root of my evil and all that.”
“How’s that going for your?”
“Awful. I even said sorry for the door I kicked down. I just can’t find it in me to do anything really evil. Minor petty annoyances,” he said grabbing Ernie’s tankard and took a swig, “yes, but nothing major. So why haven’t you lopped my head off?”
Hurak ignored the question for a moment and turned to Ernie. “Now I’m going to take my hand away.”
“…but, Hurak, he’s the Dark Lord!”
“Ernie, trust me on this… have my instincts ever let us down?”
“There was that blonde witch down in Uljajdador.”
“Alright, but she was alluring; barbarian weak point that it is.”
“No then, but come on, Hurak. He’s evil.” Ernie eyed up the droopy shouldered depressed looking twin of his barbarian friend. “Well he’s meant to be evil.”
“You!” Hurak pointed at the Minion, the mound of robes performing a small hop on the stool in surprise. “Why my body?”
The Minion ceased patting the Dark Lord’s shoulder and commenced to explain.
Hurak watched without comment until the hand had stopped gesticulating, the last motion being punctuated with an apologetic shrug.
“You wanted the body of a big warrior and this Greblest got you one. However, instead of a dead one you assume that you were given a second hand copy from this Murg who we thought we’d thrown in a lava pool?”
The Minion’s cowl nodded in agreement.
“You must have been the last barbarian that Murg copied.” Ernie added.
“Yea, Ernie. Well, it looks like the joke is on both of us. Murg gets petty revenge on me by setting you up with a clone and gets one up on yourselves for some reason or other.”
“Does this stuff get any better tasting?” The Dark Lord peered into his tankard, voice slightly slurred.
“Only after about another ten of ‘em.”
“Good, let’s get ten and go from there.”
Hurak chuckled. “Why not. Ernie, get them in.”
“Hurak, think about what you’re doing, he’s the Dark Lord, he’s evil incarnate.”
“I am and guess what? I’m starting to have more fun than I have had in ages. What does your… err… companion drink?”
“Who? Minion? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him drink. Minion?”
One of the Minion’s fingers tapped gently on the table for a moment in deliberation. Then the hand replied.
“And a Hanky-Panky for the Minion, hold the orange peel.”
Both the Dark Lord and Hurak are bored with their own lives, both seeking something different.
The parts in italics are author comments. Throughout the writing I've added in small anecdotes. Sort of like Terry Pratchett footnotes or Douglas Adams Hitchhiker asides. I've kept them in the flow of the text.
1139 words.
--------
The tavern was gloomy and fortunately empty.
They all sat round a large, scarred and unsteady table, hands or in the Minion’s case, hand aside a large tankard of a frothy liquid that the owner assured them was his best ale.
Hurak took a long swig and wiped his mouth up his arm leaving a damp snail trail of scummy foam. “Right, so who are you exactly and why are you wearing a copy of my body?”
“Where to start,” mused the Dark Lord.
The Minion waggled a finger.
“I suppose.” The Dark Lord patted the Minion. “At the start and skip the boring bit’s.” He turned his attention back to Hurak, took a swig himself and belched loudly.
“Nice one,” complimented the barbarian subconsciously.
“Thank you. Well, have you heard of the nefarious evil that is the Dark Lord?”
“Everyone knows of the Dark Lord. He gets resurrected every few hundred years or so. Implements the same simple plan for world domination, causes a huge amount of annoyance for a few years until he gets killed either by a hero wielding a legendary weapon or a hero destroying some unique artifact linked to his dark soul.”
“Ah yes… I see that you know your history. Hold on, what? What do you mean by the same simple plan? They’ve all been meticulously planned.”
“Yes, to be exactly the same. It’s a first year topic at any adventurer school. You’d think by now he’d have worked out why he kept being defeated.” Hurak laughed and nudged Ernie who joined in.
“Oh, right.” The Dark Lord’s shoulders slumped and he took another swig. “Fine, be that as it is. Each time the Dark Lord comes back he’s in a new form to catch his enemies unaware.”
“Yes but he always appears at Forlorn Castle. So whether he’s a mummy or a necromancer or a liche king, it’s all immaterial. Everyone knows who it is.”
“Ah, I see” taking another swig. The Minion patted him on the shoulder in consolation. “So has anyone ever been afraid? Has he ever caused panic and despair with his evilness?”
“According to my teachings he’s more of a frustration. Like an annoying itch that you get between your shoulder blades that causes you to squirm around until you catch it with the right scratch.” Hurak turned to Ernie for confirmation.
“That’s right,” confirmed the apprentice. “That doesn’t explain why you have…”
Ernie was stopped in mid sentence by Hurak’s hand slapping across his mouth.
Silence descended in the tavern.
This was not difficult as they were the only ones there but tales always have to have these dramatic pauses.
Give it a bit.
They’ll start off again soon.
Ready.
Any second now.
“You’re him aren’t you?”
There you go.
“Yes,” murmured The Dark Lord.
The apprentice scrabbled at Hurak’s hand, eyes popping out of his head. “Calm down Ernie.” He turned back to the Dark Lord. “My learning is telling me to lop off your head but my nose for trouble is not giving me any sniffs at all. So, if you are the Dark Lord, why are you wearing my body and why aren’t you at your castle setting in place the same old tired routine?”
The Dark Lord leaned back. “The Minion can explain about the body. As to why I’m here? Boredom mixed with an affliction I’ve come to come ‘A touch of the barbarians’.”
“Boredom and what?”
“I have these weird urges like to drink ale till I fall over. I dread seeing attractive women cause I feel the need lay them over my shoulder and escape. Then there’s the axe. Why? I mean it’s a bloody heavy thing to lug about everywhere by hand. It’s giving me a right pain in the back. I kicked a door in the other night. I’m evil and all that but I’ve never kicked a door in. I have others to do that for me.” The Dark Lord downed what was left in his tankard and subconsciously grabbed the Minion’s.
Hurak nodded, definite barbarian tendencies. “Right, so the boredom?”
“You said it. I’m reincarnated, I reform my army and try and conquer the world. I’ve done it seven times before. It’s getting a bit wearing, you know what I mean? So I decided to take a road trip, see the world, try and get back to the root of my evil and all that.”
“How’s that going for your?”
“Awful. I even said sorry for the door I kicked down. I just can’t find it in me to do anything really evil. Minor petty annoyances,” he said grabbing Ernie’s tankard and took a swig, “yes, but nothing major. So why haven’t you lopped my head off?”
Hurak ignored the question for a moment and turned to Ernie. “Now I’m going to take my hand away.”
“…but, Hurak, he’s the Dark Lord!”
“Ernie, trust me on this… have my instincts ever let us down?”
“There was that blonde witch down in Uljajdador.”
“Alright, but she was alluring; barbarian weak point that it is.”
“No then, but come on, Hurak. He’s evil.” Ernie eyed up the droopy shouldered depressed looking twin of his barbarian friend. “Well he’s meant to be evil.”
“You!” Hurak pointed at the Minion, the mound of robes performing a small hop on the stool in surprise. “Why my body?”
The Minion ceased patting the Dark Lord’s shoulder and commenced to explain.
Hurak watched without comment until the hand had stopped gesticulating, the last motion being punctuated with an apologetic shrug.
“You wanted the body of a big warrior and this Greblest got you one. However, instead of a dead one you assume that you were given a second hand copy from this Murg who we thought we’d thrown in a lava pool?”
The Minion’s cowl nodded in agreement.
“You must have been the last barbarian that Murg copied.” Ernie added.
“Yea, Ernie. Well, it looks like the joke is on both of us. Murg gets petty revenge on me by setting you up with a clone and gets one up on yourselves for some reason or other.”
“Does this stuff get any better tasting?” The Dark Lord peered into his tankard, voice slightly slurred.
“Only after about another ten of ‘em.”
“Good, let’s get ten and go from there.”
Hurak chuckled. “Why not. Ernie, get them in.”
“Hurak, think about what you’re doing, he’s the Dark Lord, he’s evil incarnate.”
“I am and guess what? I’m starting to have more fun than I have had in ages. What does your… err… companion drink?”
“Who? Minion? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him drink. Minion?”
One of the Minion’s fingers tapped gently on the table for a moment in deliberation. Then the hand replied.
“And a Hanky-Panky for the Minion, hold the orange peel.”
