(God I must be crazy)   
Hello all who were nice enough to give up a couple seconds of their life to check out my story.

Just so you guys know, this is not a serious story, far from it. The main character IS a villian, which means that you folks will be subject to monolouging, random outbursts into song, cliche` plots on the character's part, and some points where good will be utterly destroyed. You will be also be subject to a silly writing style on the writer's part, as well as lame jokes that you may or may not find funny depending on your preferences.

If you dislike non-serious stories, I ask you to not read this for your own sake, that is unless you really are determined to critique my stuff. If you're gonna read this thing anyways, get ready for a daring story dedicated to all those bad guys who failed in their evil plots but secretly never fail in our hearts.
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Underlord, a word that describes a ruthless ruler who unlike overlords don't rule over people, but rather under people. In other words, they are undergound rulers who usually are meerly children of the overlord, in most cases the eldest and male. Although in rare cases there have been female underlords, or if you prefer the proper honorary, an underlady. Underlords are by far not reconized by their subjects, and are prone to being usurped from their throne weither it be by death, kidnap, or blackmail. None-the-less there are some who remain in control, cleverly using a popular subject as their voice, their image, and quite possibly their fist while they do the thinking. This strategy no matter how unpractical, has in fact saved many from certain doom thanks to the help of the "Fake Lord". Their subjects blindly following the fake one while the Underlord remains in control. This word is not found in the dictionary, but you will soon be using it, this I can promise...



<><><><>Chapter 1: The Birth Of An Underlord<><><><>

The Kingdom of Limbo isn't quite a kingdom anymore, not since the Revolution of the Seven Demon Lords (the title was too long for the history books, so they shortened it to "The Revolution"). Nowadays there aren't just seven Demon Lords, there are many. Too many in fact, and the Kingdom of Limbo (or just Limbo) has been split into thousands of provinces earning it the nickname, The Land of a Thousand Lords. Every week another war, every month another usurper. Due to all the rising chaos, the idea of an Overlord was introduced. This Overlord would rule over all the lords and lesser subjects in order to keep things in order, and put an end to the constant fighting. Unfortunately, the sovereignty of such a title motivated some lords to try and usurp the Overlord. As a result, the Council of Lords was created to keep these threats in check, but also to give people an excuse to steal food from the nearest snack table. This new form of government proved to be useful, lords were properly feed, the majority won, no more fighting over a single penny. It was not a democracy per say, more of an evil republic...maybe even a fake republic designed to fool the lords into thinking they were still in power. It wasn't like they actually made the decisions or anything. That could explain the rather convienant graveyard full of thousands of dead bodies that looked a lot like they belonged to the lords. The lord's never suspected anything anyways, and if they did....they won't live to tell the tale.

For a century this practice had held strong to the requirements needed for a successful society. The current Overlord, a frightening demon called Lord Rathor has improved the system with the addition of a single advisor that organized special events and random unimportant appointments. Sometimes the assistant even makes snacks. A trio of judges were also formed under his rule, who took care of the lesser subjects who just happened to question his authority. These judges are actually a three headed dragon, wise and old, who are also blind and have hideous breath. It is said that the three-headed dragon could see the future and prophesize the end of the world. These whispers may be true, but so far no flying pigs have been sighted above Germany. I'll tell you this, they are very accurate when it comes to matchmaking, childbirth, and the menu for next week's lunch. So when Lord Rathor was having his weekly manicure, in his favorite recreation room, with the lights tinted to a degree in order to make him look more threatening, he started to think. He had conquered countless new lands, killed many heroes and potential threats alike, and painted the next door neighbors house a horrid shade of pink. He needed to start thinking about an heir.

A little thing you need to know about demons, specifically demons who happen to be overlords, they don't live forever. Sure, they can drink from the fountain of youth every second of the day, put on that fancy ring of immortality, eat from the tree of life without managing to burn off their lovely little tails. That won't help them from getting killed in their sleep, or getting hit by a canonball in battle, or accidently falling off a bridge during your morning stroll. Immortality for demons is just a chance to not age at all, but dying from physical pain/disease anyways. For humans, it's just a chance to be immune to physical pain/disease, but dying from old age anyways. Immortality isn't what it's made out to be. That's why even an all-powerful overlord must worry about a heir, because that day will come when somebody manages to sneak poison into his drink, killing him while he's trying to go to the little boy's room. And so, he went to the only three-headed dragon (seriously) around that could accurately match him up with the perfect women that would give him a son. That, and maybe some replacement sons as well as a couple daughters to marry off to enemies as a part of some whacked out peace treaty. Due to rotten luck however, they were on a vacation....in Romania.

Lord Rathor did what any sane evil, demonic overlord would've done; hosted a contest. Not just any old boring contest mind you, it was a singing contest. Now I don't know what sort of freaky stuff demons watch when we're not looking, but aparently even the all-powerful leader watches American Idol. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if every one of them has a T.V....which they do. The Overlord's decision was broadcased, live, throughout the nine levels of Hell. Even the inhabitants of heaven took a load off just to watch what they thought was ironically a very relevent event. The inhabitants of the Earth were banned from watching "Hell's Next Idol" because the authorities in Heaven simply thought that it doesn't apply to them...which it doesn't. So, on the sixth of June, ladies ranging from fair to gruesome gathered from lands both near and far to take part in what might be the most popular music contest yet. And while the lesser subjects hoped to God that their new mistress wouldn't be the mean and ugly one, the Overlord himself was stuck with judging the singers with his assistant and librarian for obvious reasons. Aproxiamately one thousand, thirty two singers later the winner was finally announced, and to the great relief of the citizens of Limbo was not an ugly old hag that could only think of torturing her subjects. No, she was a fair maiden completer with purple skin, long blue hair, tiny black horns, and matching neon blue eyes. This also shocked the citizens, for they were certain their master would choose a...less appealing mate. They didn't complain, they would much rather have her as a mistress than the other women. The Overlord was less than pleased, but he stuck with the maiden despite of his displeasure, and nine months later she had a child. It was a boy to Lord Rathor's delight, who resembled a strange mix of both him and his wife. He was named Vesper after the evening star. A large party was thrown in celebration of the birth of the Overlord's heir, who would most likely grow to be as powerful as his father.

Let me educate you on the evil overlord version of "blessing" a child. It is not done by the parent, usually both parents would be dead by now. Instead, it is done through the means of magic forbidden to most if not all mortals. This is for two reasons. One, the magic used in this blessing is not one full of blessings despite the idea. Two, the children blessed will become fate intwined with evil. Those who would rather have a happy, good and love-filled life are recommended to not bless their children in such a way. This type of blessing only applies to overlords, because as natural servants of evil they must commune with darkness in order to have what might be considered good fortune. They are also giving up their children to beings that really don't care and will do what they wish with the child. If the Overlord even dares to go against the will of evil, their good fortune will fade, and they will fall from power. It is as simple as that. And this, my friends is where the story really begins.

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

The ceremonial room was darker than usually. It usually has a dim light in the center so ritualists could see what they were doing. That day however, there was no light, just pitch black darkness. It was the sort of darkness you would expect when locked inside a closet by your jerk of an older sibling. The sort of darkness which forces you to feel your way around as if you were blind. You have to deal with these things in order to commune with darkness. Do you really think having a candle burning will do you any good? And when I say commune with darkness I mean the twisted sort that haunts your dreams. The "other" kind of darkness is a much uplifting prospect as long as you don't stay too long. This type of darkness is the later sort. The sort of darkness that causes your heart to be heavy with sorrow or just an orchestra of bad vibes, which falls apon you once all traces of light is gone. Which brings us to the light, which has good and bad side to it. Good side, you can see where you're going. The bad side? You are subject to temporary/permanant blindness, and people just can't handle being on the spotlight. In other words, you could never handle the truth.

The truth is, darkness can bring out the truth as well, but only when you accept it. That is why the first born son of all overlords are to be bathed in complete darkness, under the ideal that "the truth will set you free". No one knows what these children can possibly be set free of, but according to the wise men the freedom is applied to mortality, and lack of power. Whatever works. Baby Vesper, like all normal babies, did not like the idea of batheing in pitch black darkness. So, in order to get the tall ominous figure carrying him to turn around and forget about leaving him in the dark, he used a famous manuever that manages to give all babies what they want regardless of how strict their guardians are. He cried. No, he wailed. If I were to accurately describe the sound of his wailing, it would be a combination of bad opera, and the harmonous sound of nails on a chalkboard. Add in a dying rodent, and you'll get the idea. Poor Lord Rathor had to carry his baby boy all the way to the center of the dark room, which is a hard job to perform. Especially when you don't even know where you are.

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!" Lord Rathor sighed, holding his baby out from him in a rather unloving way, as if he was ready to drop the child. Could you blame him? The kid was wailing uncontrollably. I hope that I was not this bothersome, he thought as young Vesper struggled in his grip. Someone, or something heard his thoughts, and a chorus of whispers filled that void that was the darkness. The room seemed to grow colder, and Lord Rathor could've probably seen his breath if it wasn't so dark. It didn't matter, he know what was happening anyways, They're here.

Before I get into who exactly "They" are, I must remind you of the unwritten law concerning that Voice. You know, the disassembled voice who always seem to know something you don't? That voice that always seem to pop in just to piss you off and make your life even more unbearable. When it's some all-knowing omnipresent voice it usually is very loud and intimidating right? And if it belongs to one with "pure" itentions it usually sounds female for some reason? Well this Voice is different. For one, it isn't loud, the Voice whispers for goodness' sakes. Also, forget about gender, or it being human for that matter. It has this high pitched, squeaking voice mixed in with a silky smoothed voice that is impossible for a normal human to manage without breaking their voice box. It isn't understandable in any way, and sounds like a bunch of people are whispering different partrs of the same sentence as if they rehearsed it the day before. The only difference is, the order in which you hear the words are completely random.

'Dear....oh....like....just....you....my....him....were.....but.......yesss........'

As you can see, it is pretty much impossible to decifer any meaning in the words of as I call it "The Voice of Evil". That is unless you listen reeeaaal carefully. Once you do this, all you need to do is piece the words together in the order in which they would make the most sense. Like such: "Oh, but my dear...you were just like him. Yesss." See? It makes so much sense now, and for both of our sakes I shall spare you the dismantled versions of their speech. However, for an overlord like Lord Rathor, he could instantly reconize the meaning in the Voice's words. He has to. It's in the job description.

"Maybe, but this child must learn if he is to survive" Lord Rathor said calmly, hiding the fact that he wasn't in the mood to talk about his childhood. It's bad enough his parents showed his friends his baby pictures when he was a teenager every time they came over. Now he has to worry about a dismantled voice commenting on how horrid his behavior was.

From afar it would seem he was talking to absolutely no one, but ask he spoke the air seemed to change directions in a rythemic matter. A matter which strangely reflects a pattern of conversation. By that time, the baby had quieted, which is why I recremend that whenever your child is wailing like a mourner at a funeral, try using your magical powers to change the atmosphere into something much more soothing. If you happen to not have magical powers, there's always the power of science and technology.

'And learn he shall...but first you must upheld to your duty, hmm?'

Lord Rather grimaced, the Voice was rushing things. That was always a bad omen, especially since he was an evil dismantled being that never tells you anything. "Very well, he is yours." Young Vesper was held out to the shadows in mild surrender and what happened next would not be seen by the naked eye, even when the room isn't pitch black.

A strong force took hold of the child, wrapping around it in embrace(No, not that kind). The father felt the full effect of such a force, which strongly resembled a tornado, which would've torn his skin apart if it weren't for the protective gems he wore. Seconds passed by quickly, and the child was gone, in the clutches of the shadows, the spirits of sorrow, hatred, and on a lesser note cookies. It is not known what happens in the darkness, for no researcher ever dared to witness this practice, and no Overlord ever dared to question the Voice's insights. But whatever happens, the child still remains in tact, with no mental or physical damage. According to magic experts, the only change that takes place is the inducement of an overwhelming amount of power. In rare cases leading experts have witnessed that some Overlords who have gone through this ritual as babies are more prone to losing their powers as oppose to those who don't. The fact remains, that the happenings that takes place during such an event must remain a secret according to the unwritten laws of fate that can be found in the Archives of Everything and Nothing.

That is why the Overlord was left alone in the darkness, not only because of the pact of secrecy, but also to prepare himself for the second duty of the ceremony. The duty in question is arguably the most important part, due to the fact that this duty if done wrong may mean some bad voodoo for both you and your heir.

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

My god Sam this was nicely done. I like how heaven just likes to watch Hell's next Idol

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You Just Gotta Believe!!!
yukkuri shiteite ne!

I am disappoint. I was expecting this to be about Seedle.

Dang, didn't really expect people to reply to this. Thanks Kyan and Mathias! I'll try and have an update up as soon as possible (been busy lately) ;D

Anywho, replies~

@Kyan: Heaven is surprisingly interested in the events of Hell. They have to, they're responsible for it...

@Mathias: I don't do fanfics

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

Why not? Everyone else in this forum does.

Well I'm not everyone else now am I?

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

gotta agree with Sam on that one. she's a total weirdo. (Which we all love)

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You Just Gotta Believe!!!
yukkuri shiteite ne!

There are three duties protaining to the blessing of an Overlord's child. The first duty has already been covered, a duty that supposedly reflects the Overlord's loyalty to the forces of darkness. Or something like that. The second duty is more of a challenge. See, in order to complete the second duty, one must gather three items to present to the Voice of Evil. You know, like an offering or something, without the burning incence and exotic temples. Of course these "offerings" don't go without a reward, however the reward in question isn't power, nor immortality, not even a lifetime supply of chocolate. No, your reward for riling up your most prized possessions to give to a being you can't even see let alone touch is....a prophecy. THREE to be exact. Can I get a whoop-whoop? If you want to go into detail its a prophecy of personality for an animal, a prophecy of status for a mineral, and finally a prophecy of relations for a vegetable. Pretty nifty stuff there. The problem is, these three items can't be your normal everyday items, they have to be priceless. And that's where the challenge lies. You can't find priceless items at the nearest supermarket, life just isn't that easy. In order to gather such priceless objects one would have to circle the entire Earth only about five times, or stroll into the nearest black market. They sell some cheap stuff there. Like a mouflon lamb imported from Iran!

"Baaaaaaaa...baaaa...baa-" before the lamb could bleat another complaint it was silenced by none other than the grumpy old Overlord.

"Silence! I didn't spend millions of hard-stolen cash on you for my health you know", Rathor grumbled in the darkness. "Where is that disembodied freak anyways? He was supposed to be here an hour ago! Seven hours! Seven hours h--she...IT's kept me waiting, when it was supposed to be six! You would think an all-knowing being such as it would be able to keep track of time."

'My my, didn't your mother teach you patience was a virtue?'

Lord Rathor scowled at the darkness as that all too familiar wind pattern came back into existance. "Technically, there's no such thing as virtue here. And don't bring my mother into this." And to prove his point, the Overlord pointed the finger. And no one uses the finger on a disembodied Voice, because a Voice can totally kill ya. Totally.

That is if it had an actual body.

'Oh, I'm hurt....why so touchy about your parents....weren't you the one who -accidently- murdered them both...yesss?' If there was anything that would make Lord Rathor get P.O., it was any reference towards his parents. Nice people, papa was a warlord who happened to have a reputation for torturing every...single...thing...in...existance. Only, not that many organic lifeforms. And mama was just as nasty, the old witch left poor, innocent Rathor in a remote cavern inhabited by unintelligent dragons for five months before returning to find her son on the brink of death. Did she do anything to save him? Nooooo. It was three weeks before Rathor was strong enough to walk with no support, and even then he still had sensitivity issues...as well as breathing problems. The boy was burnt to a crisp. Worst. Parents. Ever. And don't get me started on the guy's sixteenth birthday party. He still has bite marks from those pesky man-eating piranhas. What a way to ruin a pool party, supposedly the piranhas were meant to be a "test". Of what? Rathor's ability to swim realy fast?


"Hey, they had it coming! What kind of parents give their children a man-eating, three-headed hell hound for a Christmas present?!"

'Actually...if you were to tame that beast it would've been a most useful pet...'

"And have Hades on my hide for the fifth time since I stole his ferryman's boat? I don't think so!"

'What's done is done....all that matters now is the offerings....what have you brought me, Rathor....?' The air seemed to grow thicker until it became heavy enough to frighten the mouflon. "Baaa-!" Rathor sighed, and quickly covered the lamb's mouth before the animal could cause a racket. "A lamb, but it's no Hebrew sacrafice. Imported all the way from Iran, though a local domesticated lamb would've probably been a lot more obediant".

For your information, lambs are smarter than you think. They understand human speech. They also understand when they are about to be sacraficed to some sort of god. One would say it's almost likesecond nature. After all they've been sacrafice bait since the fertile crescent. Honestly, why couldn't they just settle for crops as sacraficial items? Or gold? The Mayans and Aztecs got away with it, but in the Middle East, Europe and Asia you have to use animals? I blame Cain. He should've tried alot harder. And now, because of Cain's stupid mistake the poor mouflon was doomed to be devoured by darkness in exchange for a pesky prophecy, and let me tell ya, that lamb wouldn't heel to such blasphemy. Luckily, in Limbo, they accept all three types of offerings.

Chomp

"Aaaaahhh!" cried Rathor, holding his bitten hand. The lamb took this chance to try and get the hell out of there. Unfortunately, before it could reach what it thought was the exit it instead got caught inside the darkness, making it the Voice's exotic catch of the day.

'It seems pretty obediant to me...I approve of the animal...'

"Ha, ha. Halarius. Now, the prophecy?"

'Yesss....of course....your son will grow to become headstrong....never yealding...never giving...always pursuing his goals....he shall be cunning....and devilishly handsome...slow to anger...but quick to bite back if deemed necessary....don't be surprised if the boy disobeys you directly....or worse...'

"What do you mean 'or worse'?" Lord Rathor asked, raising an eyebrow. There are so many unwanted nuisances that could come of this. Like backstabbing for example! Sensing the Overlord's concern, ol' Voice of Evil decided to shed some light on the situation....a very dim light.

'Oh don't worry...he won't be that much of a threat....only if you allow him to be...frankly it probably wouldn't matter anyways....you are a bit overprotective of your current status...now....the mineral...'

Minerals are more tricky, since prophecies based on material items are more inspired from symbolism. For example, a goblet is often use to symbolize family and tradition, but is used more often as a ritualistic item in certain polytheistic religions/cultures. If filled with wine it might often reflect immortality (see holy grail), or it could imply that someone would grow up to be an alcoholic. Either way, you gotta think about just what sort of material object you're gonna present, before actually presenting it. A knife may represent a person who will undergo relationship's that just won't work, but be protected from pain and nightmares. A staff might imply an authoritive figure. For example, Rathor's father presented a golden sceptre for his mineral offering. Traditionally the mineral items would predict a person's status, and possibly even their personal abilities. Rathor's offering, was a diadem. A diadem is a type of crown fastened at the back, sometimes it's bejeweled, sometimes it isn't. A diadem is often used to donate a king's/emperor's authority, but it is also used as an emblem for regal power or dignity. If you want to go into detail, it's basically an object befitting for a sepreme ruler, in this case an Overlord. The diadem was of course bejeweled with three precious gems. The first gem was a Ruby, a jewel famously reconized as the king of all jewels, a jewel that represents passion. The second jewel was a Rubellite, a particularly beautiful gemstone from the colorful family of tourmalines. It's vibrant color scheme is said to give off a seductive, pleasurable aura. The third jewel was a Morganite, a gem full of many fine pink hues with a hint of orange, emitting charm, esprit, and tenderness. The diadem itself? It was made of brass. Yeah...totally awesome right? Did I mention most of the jewels looked pink? Pink is a manly color ain't it?

'You've really outdone yourself this time...a diadem...where you got this I wonder....and the jewels...quite an unnatural combination....very well.....he will grow to become purhaps the most powerfull Overlord yet....however....he will be trialed....weither he will be victorious or not I can't decide....he will become a servant of lust...but he will be charming....seductive....and above all passionate.....how this will work out I wonder.....well...we shall see won't we....after all you still haven't presented me the vegetable....

Lord Rathor sighed, his son's future was already turning out to be a nuisance. First he was fortold to become a headstrong, magnificant bastard, now he was a powerful and headstrong, magnificant bastard with a femenine side? What next? What else could this "Voice of Evil" come up with? Well, it wasn't like the Voice's prophecies were accurate. I mean, it wasn't like the kid would actually be able to overthrow him or something. Noooo, that would be impossible. The Overlord pulled out the last offering, a black petaled rose whose thorns were dripping with violet fluids.

Now, I don't know how or why, but out of all the many plant-life in the world, a black rose was good enough to scare the daylights out of the Voice of Evil. It probably scared it more than weeds could, and those things are scary. But what was the source of this fear? Was it the color black? No, it was evil, evil isn't effected by black. Was it the thorns? Nah, the thing didn't have a body for crying out loud. Maybe it was the violet fluids? Seriously, nobody's afraid of fluids, as long as they aren't acidic. No, the "almighty" Voice of Evil was afraid of none of these things, it was the fact that Lord Rathor would even dare to present it such an object. Why? Because this black rose could possibly bring about the worst luck known to man...and woman. When it comes to relationships, black roses if given to a lover would basically mean your breaking up with them. If given to a relative it's almost like your wishing them the worst of luck. And it's rare too. It will only grow in dark places (usually caverns), and at a certain time of month (usually december). Each rose only emits one seed, and it takes years for a single rose to grow. By the way, black roses aren't found on Earth, and be glad. If pierced by one of it's black thorns you sir(or madam) are in danger of dying at midnight. That's right folks, this flower takes a rose's capacity for representing death...to the extreme. So you would understand why the Voice is so freaked out.

'Are you sure you want to present that...thing....?' the Voice asked with a hint of foreboding in it's voice.

"Yes, yes. Get on with it!"

The air grew cold, and the chamber was struck with a few minutes of eerie silence. It was like Death itself was witnessing the ritual. 'Very well...here is your reward...'

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

Again Sam. Thank you. this story is great

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You Just Gotta Believe!!!
yukkuri shiteite ne!

You don't know how much research went into this sigment xD

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

Very interesting. Some spelling mistakes here and there, but nothing bad enough to cause misunderstandings or confusion.

Cool concept. Awesome that you aren't writing a fanfic.

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I try. I can't wait 'til chapter two though. That's where the bad guy five man band is introduced. As well as a couple other groupings. Gonna be fun.

And yeah, I couldn't come up with a decent fanfic anyways

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

'Your son will one day fall in love with a maiden of dark beauty....however, it will not be a normal love....it will be an obsession....'

"And...?" Lord Rathor pestured. The sudden solemn tone in the Voice's...well, voice was more than enough to make him anxious.

'Don't rush me boy....he will fall in love....and at the best moment in his life....one of them....'

"Yes?"

'....Will die.'

"Wait!....What? WHO?!"

You, reader, are quite possibly asking yourself the same question. That, or your telling yourself, "Oh no, not another Shakespearian story." Don't worry. Not only does this story have absolutly nothing to do with star-crossed lovers, but all your questions will be answered...some other time in the near future. Give or take a few chapters. Maybe fifty. It's not like it's nothing to worry about anyways, there's only two people we have to worry about. Besides, why should you care who will live or die? These people are only fictional characters spawned from the dark depths of the author's mind. That still doesn't stop you from being curious though, now does it? I hate to break it to ya, but not even the Voice of Evil knows the full details of the prophecy, and he was the one who prophesized it!

'That...I do not know....I only know one of them will die....the one who doesn't....there life will be filled with rotten luck from then on....do you still wish to present me....this...'

"NO!" the Overlord abruptedly shouted, the fury on his face at that moment was enough to send a commoner running for his life. Not that a commoner would be able to go very far. "First you tell me my son's gonna and overthrow me, then you say he's gonna grow up to be a man-whore, and now you're telling me he's going to die at a young age as well?!"

'No, no...you've got it all wrong...I said one of them was going to die....I didn't specifically mention your son...'

"Bu-"

'Besides....none of them may not die at all....they'll probably just break up tragically....stuff like that happens all the time....come on Rathor....does this look like the face of a liar to you....?'

Such a statement was followed by possible the longest awkward silence in the history of awkwardness. "...Uh", Rathor stated with the addition of the forefinger.

'Oh....right....forgot I don't have a face....but I assure you....you can trust me...yesss....'

Lord Rathor glared into the darkness for a few seconds more, before finally letting out another one of his trademark sighs. The Overlord looked at the flower in his hand, then at the darkness, "Fine, I accept your prophecy, bur mark my words...if anything funny happens twenty years from now, I'm holding you personally responsible!"

'Right, right....it's to be expected of you Overlords....now for the last and final duty...'

"Don't rush me, darn it! Now...where did I put that knife?" The last and final duty of the ritual is really one of the most cliche` and overused offerings when it comes to dark, evil cult-like rituals; the offering of blood. Why is it always blood? Who's bright idea was it to harm yourself in order to satisfy the hunger of some large ham diety you don't even known you could trust? Maybe it's just a cultist's version of proof of loyalty. Maybe they just like inflicting harm upon themselves. Maybe they feel threatened by the diety, believing that giving up an ounce of blood would garentee them the right to live for another year or so. But is it really that bad, that some religions would charge the other of blasphemy? I mean, people do stuff like that all the time, in a different sort of light of course. Blood is often donated as charity after all. Maybe that's why blood is so popular in certain rituals. Because of it's sacrafice, because of it's charity, but if a cult gives up their blood to a god, it is viewed as unorthodox. Then again, these are cults we're talking about, and everyone hates cultists. Especially demons. Besides, this isn't a cult-based ritual we're talking about, this is a ritual centered around the blessing of a loving, caring Evil Overlord's child.

Lord Rathor pulled out a ceremonial black hilted knife, handcrafted by the finest blacksmith/priest you know. Really nice, although the knife is more used to killing sacraficial animals then drawing the blood of a demon (seriously, do demons even have blood?). It totally did not see this coming, for the Overlord had used to punchure a fleshwound into the Overlord's hand. It wasn't that bad mind you, but it was enough to produce a few drops of blood. On the topic of blood, demonic blood consists of a sickly green color. If one must compare it to something, I would compare it to slime since it oozes exactly like slime. Some say it even sticks, but that would be impossible. So the blood drawn stuck to the ice, cold steel of the knife's blade, so that it could be risen up to an appropriate height above the hidden ground. A single droplet of demonic blood formed as gravity worked it's magic, which soon broke free from the rest of the blood. The droplet then fell to the ground at great speed until it finally collided with the darkened floor. What happened next would be to some, a miracle.

The darkness vanished(for the most part). I mean it vanished....it disappeared, gone, darkness go bye-bye. If I were to describe it, I would say it was like somebody pulled the "on" switch on a vacuum, and sucked the darkness out of there. It was awesome to say the least, and in the wake of such events something was left behind by the darkness. A child.

Little Vesper opened one eye, awakening after seven hours and forty-five minutes of being surrounded by darkness. The first thing he saw was his father, looming over him like a hawk. The child reached out with it's tiny fingers towards his father only to be picked up abruptedly by the Overlord. Once the child was at eye-level, Lord Rathor looked him over. There was something different about his son now that the Voice was gone, for growing on his forehead was the makings of a ram's horns...which glowed with an abnormally blue color.

<><><><>END OF CHAPTER 1<><><><>
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FUN FACTS: A demon's horns doesn't grow until they are six years of age. However, if blessed by the Voice of Evil a demonic child is capable of growing horns as a baby. The more you know!

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

Nice, Sam. Enjoyable.

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Working on another story other than Hellfire, called Geistauge, which can be found here.

Thanks! And now that's done, I can take a break from writing for awhile while I prepare for chapter two! First, I must come up with a good title....*begins scheming*

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

I didn't finish reading the whole thing but my initial impressions are as follows:

1- The first chapter is too wordy. Almost reading like an encyclopedia entry. Upon finishing it, I had pretty much forgotten almost everything said there. There was no 'hook' or anything to suggest that the following story would be interesting at all. You briefly mention important events and move onto another and then another. You try to explain everything in detail when some of it really does just need to be left up to the imagination.

Ironically, there's too little characterization. Rathor doesn't have much of a personality. I'm not sure who I'm supposed to care about in all of this. Even in non-serious stories, characters have to be interesting enough to warrant reading further.

As far as what I meant by wordy, I'll give an example: "It totally did not see this coming, for the Overlord had used to punchure a fleshwound into the Overlord's hand. It wasn't that bad mind you, but it was enough to produce a few drops of blood. On the topic of blood, demonic blood consists of a sickly green color. If one must compare it to something, I would compare it to slime since it oozes exactly like slime. Some say it even sticks, but that would be impossible."

Too long on the blood. I'd suggest "It totally did not see this coming, for the Overlord had used to punchure a minor fleshwound into the Overlord's hand. Enough to produce a few drops of sickly, green blood."

(Although even the grammar there is a bit off. Since I didn't read this far, is he stabbing himself or another Overlord? You might want to find a different noun to use for one instance, in either case. It's a bit redundant as is.)

2- If the story has a narrator, it might be best to establish that early, like in the first paragraph, otherwise the random switch to "let me tell you" or "Did I mention" seems awkward.

3- This is more of a personal annoyance, but addressing the reader directly breaks a lot of immersion. If you want someone to get involved, best not to remind them they are reading a story out of nowhere.

4- Write in Microsoft Word or another program of your choice as long as it has a spellchecker. I noticed numerous mistakes and grammatical errors.

5- I know you stated in the preface that it was not meant to be serious, but it wasn't funny either. You're often sarcastic but there's no wit, and none of the quips are ever really clever.

Sorry if this all sounds scathing. I'm not a writer by any means so feel free to heed or ignore this critique in whatever way you see fit. Honestly the reason I don't come in here is because I'd probably be critical about everyone's writing and I'd never write anything myself. Too lazy and uncreative. But I was a bit bored this morning.

You're not a bad writer. You have a solid vocabulary and potential for good ideas, but you do have to work on your delivery and format a bit.

Oh wow, totally didn't see this coming! Thanks for spending time to point out my mistakes Dorian, I was hoping someone would actually take the time to critique my stuff

1) I have a problem with that, I know -__- Unfortunately I tend to get wordy with my writings Maybe it's because I tend to read encyclopedias too much, I don't know but I agree I should work on the writing a bit. As for charactization...yeah. Hopefully I'll do better with Vesper, since he's a main character. Originally I was going to just go ahead and jump ahead to him as a kid but then this came up. I'll try and have things a bit more organized in the next chapter.

2)The Narrator is a historian, I should've said that in the first paragraph, but he is basically re-telling the life of Vesper. He's a critical one though....yeah.

3)I watch too many cartoons, 'nuff said. I don't know why but I just like to have interactive narrators. A hobby I'm trying to break.

4)Unfortunately I don't have any programs like that -__- I only have wordpad and that's about it

5)The reason why I'm never gonna be a comedian right there.

Anywho, thanks for the advice, I really appreciate it. It's a bit of a surprise actually since I'd never thought anyone would actually take the time to actually read my horrid stories. Thanks again

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

I do hope you continue this Sam

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You Just Gotta Believe!!!
yukkuri shiteite ne!

I will Kyan, don't worry. It's just on a bit of a Hiatus until I finish summer work for school that they decided to wait until now to give me ;D

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Musicmac: "Sam4Books: Always ready to cheer things up with awesome art. Terms and Conditions apply."

I tend to like 'word' stories. That isn't always a bad thing.

The 'hook', though, will fix mainly everything. To me, there isn't much of anything wrong.

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Working on another story other than Hellfire, called Geistauge, which can be found here.