Badass Freaking Overlord Zetta (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
badassfreakingoverlord) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92010-08-20 02:11 pm
badassfreakingoverlord) wrote in trans_92010-08-20 02:11 pm
In Which Zetta Stakes His Claim [[Open]]
The City; to be more precises, a square therein, some fifty-by-fifty meters, not to this point used.
That poor piece of land would never be the same.
The tome stood in the center, laughing like it was in the finals for the Biggest Ham in the Cosmos Awards (which at some point in time it very well might have been). Around it, several vacant-yet-cheerful people, his loyal (created) constructs, puttered about, cleaning up debris and generally making the place grungy-yet-livable.
"Hyaaaa ha ha ha ha! Clean, you battle-monkeys! Clean, like you've never cleaned before in your lives!" Which they hadn't, it occurred to him, but he wasn't about to let that derail a good monologue. "Make this plaza a suitable domain for the great and powerful Overlord Zetta!"
One of his people piled a variety of stuff Zetta had, after an extensive amount of metaphorical arguing as to what exactly qualified as biometric data for a freaking book, requisitioned out of the armory. Why on the ground instead of in the locker it all ought to be in? Zetta was used to it that way. Technically his loyal mooks had these things all equipped anyway, but here in their 'permanent' home they had no need.
"You!" he said to the 'leader', the green-haired girl that normally served as a transport. "Paint a portrait of the magnificent Lord Zetta! Then get me a throne! Hyaaa ha ha ha ha!"
I really need a castle. Every Overlord should have a castle. That thought came dangerously close to, I miss my castle! -- but Zetta didn't look backwards! He WOULD get his stuff back! He WOULD get his Netherworld back! And he WOULD get his body back.
"Hyaa ha ha ha! Mark my words, Ohm!" Zetta said, with the impression that he was shaking a fist at the ceiling. "Your days were numbered the moment you chose to mess with THIS Overlord!"
Let's hope no one was trying to get some sleep anywhere near this raving loon.
That poor piece of land would never be the same.
The tome stood in the center, laughing like it was in the finals for the Biggest Ham in the Cosmos Awards (which at some point in time it very well might have been). Around it, several vacant-yet-cheerful people, his loyal (created) constructs, puttered about, cleaning up debris and generally making the place grungy-yet-livable.
"Hyaaaa ha ha ha ha! Clean, you battle-monkeys! Clean, like you've never cleaned before in your lives!" Which they hadn't, it occurred to him, but he wasn't about to let that derail a good monologue. "Make this plaza a suitable domain for the great and powerful Overlord Zetta!"
One of his people piled a variety of stuff Zetta had, after an extensive amount of metaphorical arguing as to what exactly qualified as biometric data for a freaking book, requisitioned out of the armory. Why on the ground instead of in the locker it all ought to be in? Zetta was used to it that way. Technically his loyal mooks had these things all equipped anyway, but here in their 'permanent' home they had no need.
"You!" he said to the 'leader', the green-haired girl that normally served as a transport. "Paint a portrait of the magnificent Lord Zetta! Then get me a throne! Hyaaa ha ha ha ha!"
I really need a castle. Every Overlord should have a castle. That thought came dangerously close to, I miss my castle! -- but Zetta didn't look backwards! He WOULD get his stuff back! He WOULD get his Netherworld back! And he WOULD get his body back.
"Hyaa ha ha ha! Mark my words, Ohm!" Zetta said, with the impression that he was shaking a fist at the ceiling. "Your days were numbered the moment you chose to mess with THIS Overlord!"
Let's hope no one was trying to get some sleep anywhere near this raving loon.