Quest for an Evil Overlord by Mayme Killeen
Pigwen didn’t set out to be evil. Despite her goblin nature, her original intention had simply been to survive. Being cast out of the mountain had been an ugly blow, but between the obscene amount of gold and the unsettling respect the humans seemed to be developing, plans had changed. Life that had once been centered around survival had shifted focus. Now, power was the name of the game.
Of course, power required making decisions. Pigwen didn’t care much for that. No, Pigwen was looking for power without any of the unnecessary hassle of deciding what to do and who to kill. Pigwen was looking for power in the hands of someone else.
That brings us to now. In a cavern lit only by a few glowing red orbs, sits a minotaur. With the body of a man and the head of a bull, he stands at least 7 feet tall. His eyes glint red, a cape of shadows and misery forming behind him in the pulsating light. Horns curling to deadly perfection, he trembles in a fit of maniacal laughter. Pigwen has just offered a proposition, and the minotaur is not taking it all that well. Pigwen remains undeterred, however. Between the bugbear and the black dragon, this reaction is nothing. Hand resting on the hilt of a dead man’s sword, she tries again, “Lord Zarnok, I’ve come to be your evil henchman.”
“Henchmen don’t just arrive.”
Pigwen glances across the room, searching for some invisible force to acknowledge the irony of Zarnok’s statement.
“You’re still standing there? Go on, leave.” He cackles again. Yet, his laugh no longer carries a thundering boom. Now it bounces off the walls in warped shrieks. His once looming, downright domineering head looks so big that he might tip over. This is no longer the mysterious “Lord Zarnok” of her nightmares. This is just a childish villain to be slain with the spell of friendship.
Pigwen can’t leave now, though. Monsters like these are stuffed with pride and will take “nevermind” as a challenge. This will require some decisive action.
…
Sorting through the minotaur’s horde, Pigwen gazes at Zarnok’s decapitated head. She runs her fingers through the meager pile of gold, wishing its soft luster would console her. Why wouldn’t Zarnok take her? Why wouldn’t anyone take her? Her goblin status should have been an incentive. An evil creature with nothing better to do than lurk and steal, of course she’d make the perfect henchman.
No. Stop it. Pigwen can’t believe she is reaching this level of despair, especially over someone who had been so easy to kill. Pigwen rises, steeling herself with a sense of unbridled authority. She will be a henchman. She will—just not for some half-wit minotaur.
Slinging the humble sack of gold over her shoulder, Pigwen marches forward. She will find herself a proper evil overlord. No one will tell her what to do.