The air began to get colder. Cold as the lifeless ooze that courses through D'Sars veins. The rage was swelling up inside and needed to be manifested. Small electrical arcs began to dance alight within the eyes of the darklord. A flash of lightning off in the distance was followed by a roll of thunder shortly after. To D'Sar, this was his theme song. He was summoning his battle hymn. Navarre,in silhouhette by the growing storm behind him, cracked his neck from side to side while in mid air.
They were sizing each other up. This would have been their first confrontation of violent nature. Both were unsure of what the other was capable of.
"Well? Are we going to just float in the air and settle this with a staring contest? Or shall we..." the vampire started, then paused as if to look for the right term for this most rare and odd of situations. Eyebrows raising as if to exclaim 'Eureka!' he continued...
"... commence O' festivalé?"
Navarre clenched his fists, then opened them again quickly extending his razor sharp talons which made a sound akin to swords clashing. D'Sar raised and eyebrow, twitched his upper lip, then licked his vampiric quills. Just as he summoned a bolt of lightning as if to be the opening round bell, he shouted "Shall we dance, Magpie?!" The thunder crashed a demonic BOOM and it had begun!
They each began to flap their wings and begin to dive towards each other. This was the test. Who would hit the hardest in the first blow.Careening towards each other at break neck speed their fists slammed into each others jaws! Blows that would take the head off of an elephant merely dazed each other. They were strong the two of them. Down on the ground you could hear the sounds of onlookers exclaiming "ooooooooooo!" and whincing when the first blows hit.
The Silent Raven flapped and backed up, as did the D'Sari Master. Darkstar rubbed his jaw and quipped "not bad...not bad at all ... for a 'feather-weight'. " He continued his smirk with this statement; "This just may prove intriguing after all."
Now, the problem with some gods in these realms, is they carry little trinkets. Things that make them stronger or weaker. In this case, there is a gold watch that virtually makes it impossible to hurt a god. Strategically, one should disarm the opponent of such trickery to succeed. Years ago, D'Sar disguised his as the Sceptor of Specters. Hidden inthe wands head was his watch. Such a thing makes it easier to protect ones self from typical vampiric vulnerablilties, like death by stake or decapitation. Although he be demon, D'Sar has gone the evolutionary scale from human to vampire to lich to demon. Each leaves a specific trait behind. Human compassion, vampiric lust, lich greed and demonic evil.
Like two angry rams they went at it again! Heading fast upon each other, D'Sar swung his legs forward and rammed his boot into the birdmans chest, but his attack was ill timed and he slid to the birds right after a mild connection. As they passed each other Navarre decided to change from fist to talon mode and deeply raked the face of his dark adversary. Darkstar tried a backhanded punch on his way past but the hit was minimal. Flapping to a halt and hover, he touched the itch that was his cheek. Blood. The bird struck first blood!
"NOT THE FACE YOU MOLTING FOWL!" D'Sar yelled as he turned and glared. Then he snickered. "Anyway..Better luck next time."
As he closed his eyes for a moment and the wounds simply closed to normal.
So far the Raven had truly gone silent. Navarre was to busy contemplating what was to come next. That vampire regeneration was a little too quick even for the Undead Lord. Navarre had figured that somewhere upon the vampire was a gold watch. The man-bird fondled his own in his belt sash hidden away so no one would suspect. But that's when D'Sars bat-hearing took over. The inane ticking could be heard and like sonar, he had homed in on it.
D'Sar reached for his arms belt and grabbed a small handle. Touching the dark ruby coloured pommel upon it, a meter long cylinder of glowing blood red darkforce energy formed. The DarkSabre had been activated. Navarre, seeing that weapons were being brandished, first chose to extend his talons to twice their length. Again that sword clash sound was heard as the claws grew longer.
Each now had a new quest. Disarm each other of the protection of the watch or this battle could last for centuries. Round two was about to begin.
4 days had gone by, and still no word on the whereabouts of Alfred. No scout could penetrate the Norlondarian magical fields of protection for they were of anti-evil nature. In those days, D'Sar was rehabilitating himself. Slave girls had cleaned his chambers and bathed him. His health returned with the reintroduction of blood to his diet. He began studying magic long thought forgotten. In one practice attempt, an ancient spell of regeneration, simulating the regenerative properties of the Vampyre was used experimentally on Captain Kurgan. His skeletal heucuva body had slowly reformed it's exo-structure to gain bloodless flesh. But that was for naught, since the effects on a heucuva's skeletal body could not hold the magic without constant upkeep, which he had not the mystic prowess to continue and it eventually fell off rather quickly. Kurgan was depressed, but not by much. He thought his bare skeleton look was far too menacing. Darkstar had to remind him that the D'Sari ARE menacing. Not ALL evil is pleasing to the eye. He was a representative of our stronger dark side, not the seductive side.
D'Sar, alone in his crypt, practiced many spells and incantations, opening portals to hell and closing them on the quick, for if in battle he may need to call forth the darkest of beings from the nether-realms. He strengthened abilities for hours, relentlessly. He began to perfect his long lost art of thunder-wielding, a form of weather control. Along with that he now could direct darkforce bolts of energy from his eyes as well as his hands. Inanimate objects and dead things moved more easily at his will. Demonic dragonlike fire could be spat from his open maws. It was a time of rediscovery.
Captain Kurgan was in the courtyard rallying troops when D'Sar, in battle dress blacks decided to pay them a visit.
"Milord! You look wonderful! Even the infamous insidious glow is back in your eyes!" Kurgan exclaimed.
D'Sar smirked. It had been a long time since he had been outside. The sun had just gone down and the black clouds were covering dusk well in these parts. He walked the lines of troops and monstrous creations, inspecting them one by one. "Lint on uniform", he said as he passed a warrior. "Smudge of tarnish on your exo-armour" he said to a D'Sari knight. "Polish those boots there, mister" he told another. Other than that, he was quite pleased.
Off in the distance, suddenly a shriek was heard. An ebbing in the darkforce had alerted D'Sar that some of his people where being eradicated. Sniffing the air with batlike senses, he gasped. He knew that odor. It wasn't the local baker stopping by. It was trouble that starts with "T" and rhymes with "B" and that means "balance". Also in this case it could stand for...
"Bird..." D'Sar muttered. " Pardon milord?" Kurgan queried.
"Captain Kurgan, SECURE ALL DECKS! Take us to battle stations!"
Kurgan responded without hesitation.
"Seal off the compound. Sound general quarters. Go to RED ALERT! This is no drill! We HAVE an intruder! I repeat, we HAVE an intruder! Commander Volrath, take a battalion of Tower Protectors to the south gate and aid the Dark Governess who is on watch there if necessary!"
Commander Volrath nodded and complied.
"Mister Kurgan, you're with ME, Captain." was the D'Sari masters order.
They made haste to one of the scrying pools within the Tower's command center. "Lets have a look, shall we?" said D'Sar as he cast his hand over the pool to raise the mists of allsight and then watch the water turn to a mirror like viewing area. Visions of a thunderous battle just outside the south walls between the black winged God of Balance, Navarre, patron deity of the Silent Ravens clan, locked in battle with the Dark Governess. *
"It seems she has the god under her thumb...or should I say her boot?" chortled D'Sar as he watched her attempting to squash Navarre underfoot the same way she dispatched Nemesis 2.0, like a fallen sparrow. "My he DOES look like he's about to BURST, doesn't he?"
"Sir? It would seem he's somehow managing to break free of her weight. Oh dear..." Kurgan gasped as Darkstar was standing with a smug look on his face. D'Sar's grin turned to grimace as the Governess was mystically entombed in the earth beneath her. Navarrian magic is the ability to alter probabilities. He changed the probability of water tables underground to swell and change the dirt to a quicksand consistency. Then he reversed the process to entomb her. This imprisoned her and took her out of the fray.
Watching in horror, they witnessed Navarre with a vehement look of anger, slaughter a Tower Protector with his razor sharp talons and then be led by humbled warriors to the Tower pathway.
"Kurgan..." the man bat began, "recall the troops. This is going to get ugly. Summon Anthraxia, the D'Sari Knights, Wrathios and Gothrax and a battalion. Stay out of sight at the far west wall and wait for my signal. I'm heading of to the courtyard. Make sure it's EMPTY!" quipped the pensive darklord.
"And Kurgan," he added, "If he starts to win, PLUCK him. This battle is going to be one HELL of an entry into D'Sarian lore."
With that, the god of all that is dead and undead made his way to the war room. He put on his Insidious Cloak of Infernal Darkness, affixed his Dark Saber to his left belt harness, and his Blade of Endarkenment to the right, grabbed his protective Scepter of Specters and made way for the courtyard.
The courtyard was desolate and devoid of life save for the bats that scurried in the air as D'Sar stood steadfast and strong waiting. Shrouded in his dark cloak he was but a silhouette of evil with no sense of light of life save his glowing red eyes. Tumbleweeds blew by in the dusk air as the dirt twisted in mini whirlwinds.
Navarre approached with his D'Sarian escort that led him to what may very well his final battle as he seeks to take on the embodiment of evil itself. The man-bird was not in good spirits. He was dirty, battered and bleeding, and worse yet, VERY angry.
D'Sar raised his hand to the troops to halt their escort attempt to ensure this be a one on one showdown.
Why the bird was here, D'Sar had no idea. But this is his home and he doesn't take well to uninvited guests that wreak havoc in his Sanctum Sanctorum.
Navarre approached and let forth a "SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" akin to Rutger, the Hawk of Kalilyn, heralding his approach as a war cry.
"DEMON!" Navarre shrieked, "VILE ABOMINATION! SOULLESS CARRION! Your day of reckoning is at hand, for justice comes tonight! I WILL dine upon yon insipid eyes, and dance on your gravesight!
"Really, magpie? It seems SOMETHING has ruffled your feathers, wouldn't you say, old bird? Care to clue a bat in?" Darkstar quipped. As Navarre was known for speaking in rhymes, D'Sar was known for off the cuff humor when in battle.
"The crimes are known to you and I, injustice is insight. I've come in vengeance to bring doom as I victor in this fight!" the sky raven mused.
"You should think more about battle than singing me sonnets, blackbird. If you seek a lesson in pain, you've found the realms best teacher. Remind me to chain your lifeless husk to the dungeon racks when I'm done suckling whatever that is that pumps through your veins." The Darklord retorted. He was annoyed by this intrusion and had alot of anger to vent. D'Sar had an ego bigger than his outstretched wings and didn't take lightly to challenge on the home front.
Navarre leapt to the air and stretched his wings, lofting him skyward with each ferverous sweep. His attempt seemed to be to begin a powerdive into the darklord on approach. "SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE" was the battle cry that quothe the raven, as he began his hastened attack. D'Sar concentrated and in a loud sound of imploding air he vanished into a cloud of fire and brimstone, only to reappear, standing several feet behind his attacker in another implosive sound. Navarre, realizing what had happened, arched his body glide upward to contort into the opposing direction.
"OLÉ!" shouted the man-bat in smirking taunt as Navarre merely passed harmlessly through D'Sar's cloud of never-was.
Darkstar, in a horrible slurping sound, sprouted his leatherette wings from his back as they grew outward from unseen sockets within him. Shaking them from side to side, the gory blood and puss flew from them as he leapt to the air in similar fashion.
Now came the face off... Mano a mano or in this case, God against God. This was truly a clash of the titans. A battle within the skies as the Towerites watched in shock as the beginning of the epic saga for supremacy between D'Sar and Navarre was about to come to a head.
Each combatant stared at each other from the air. Baring his vampiric fangs and angry eyes glowing fire red, he floated aloft...panting with adrenaline.
Navarre peered at him intently with blackened raven colored optic orbs, now beginning to glow blue with bio-electric energy. Both of them floating in stasis high above the compound...
*See "The Vault of the Heavens" in "Quothe the Raven, Navarrian musings" for the prequel to this chapter*
It's been 8 days and Lord Darkstar had not left his crypt. He was an utter mess. His hair was disheveled, his clothes were barely on his body and he, quite frankly, smelled. Badly. He was wasting away as he'd not had his daily blood supplies. No one could gain audience with him. During that time, slave girls delivered blood of the slain to him in carafes, only to watch it go sour, coagulate, turn brown and gain flies. Each bottle was left outside, untouched. D'Sar was withdrawn into himself. No word from the Den, or Norlondar or anyone affiliated with the wretched butler-nappers.
General Darkstar, commander of the D'Sari Knights and strike leader of the marches against the goodlings... was feeling powerless. Norlondarian magic was far more than he could challenge, and the Dark Liege Ahriman has not the heart to care about a Generals man-servant.
Captain Kurgan stood outside the door. He was worried about his liege. How one worries about an immortal, I'm not sure, but he did. D'Sar had restored him to un-life again and for that he was grateful. But now, this powerful darklord felt helpless...as helpless as his captain who seeks to console and advise him. He was becoming Darkstar's right hand... yet as it would seem, there's no arm to attach to.
"Milord?" Kurgan said meekly at first outside D'Sar's chamber door.
He cleared his throat then knocked and spoke more sternly. "Milord, PLEASE open the door? We need to speak!"
Darkstar raised his hand and cast the spell of opening upon the doors latch and it opened. He never looked up. He simply laid diagonally stomach down on his bed, feet dangling off with his face buried in the pillow.
"...come..." said the sullen vampire, with no great energy in his voice.
Captain Kurgan looked all around. The wind blew through open draped windows and rain puddles from the prior nights rains were slowly drying, although mosquitoes seemed to flit about...along with the flies.
Clothes and furniture had been thrown and broken in what would have seemed to have been from a tantrum of rage.
"Milord, it's been days... Are you all right?" said Kurgan.
Darkstar shrugged somewhat. If you could call it that. Kurgan stood at the door, which I suppose is as far as one would go, always checking his bootsoles. "Milord, what has happened in here? Has an animal been here?" He sniffed the air and grunted. "...and what IS that SMELL?"
Darkstar rolled over somewhat and peered at the Captain and asked "Is there something I can help you with?"
Slave girls were listening in the hallway, half in fear and half giddiness being in the darklords presence.
"General, this is most unlike you..." Kurgan began yet D'Sar cut him off.
"Captain, Alfred and I share a psychic link and each day I am tormented by his torturous agonies. It pains me and it fatigues me. He's been forced to do horrible things at the hand of the Den. So help me when I get my hands on them I will eat grapes from their hollowed out skulls!"
"I understand Milord, but is THIS the way to act? Many of us are quite worried and morale has sunken. We've lost Xile. He was killed heinously in battle... I fear he was too inexperienced for the war. It seemed that may have been my fault. You missed the service for the fallen. But I'm tired of being asked where you are. You need to make a presence. Quickly. With all do respect, you aren't being much of the God you are and you may smite me down for saying so, as long as it sparks enough fire into you to return to your stature as our patron. It's hard to rally the troops when the General is holed up in his chambers." Kurgan lectured.
" What would you have me do? Feign strength?" Darkstar replied.
" Quite frankly, General? YES." Kurgan answered "You have too much to do. You need to get yourself cleaned up and make a presence. You need to clear your head and prepare to see what diplomatic negotiations you may need to do to get him back OR rally us all to make a rescue. In any event, you must do SOMETHING."
"And what of YOUR efforts? We need broodmates... I have heard word of new able bodies in the lands. Sorcerers, Vampyres, Huecevas and the like, wander the city streets clanless!" Darkstar snorted.
"And just WHAT kind of a sale do you think I could make of us when our own patron God is holed up in his room like a spoiled..." He sniffed the air again disdainfully, "MESSY child?"
D'Sar raised and eyebrow and then furrowed his brow. He HAD been childish. Quite unbecoming a D'Sari Master. "I suppose you're right," he retorted, "I shan't smite you old chum. You are a wise bag of bones aren't you?"
" Come Milord, let me bring these giggling slave girls in here to make you ready for REVENGE!" Said the officer.
D'Sar nodded sagely, and they came in in a team to clean his chambers, bathe him, give him nourishment and take care of his wardrobe. "Let us rebuild a GOD!" exclaimed Kurgan.
A slave girl knelt at his feet, bared her neck to him and said "I am for you, O great lord of the night..."
D'Sar raised an eyebrow, and looked at the throbbing vein and began to feast...draining the fresh warm blood down his throat. Like a lustful fire, he was re-energized to the point that he grinned... The breakfast offering slumped to the floor unconscious. He beckoned another, holding a bottle of blood and said "MORE!"
Kurgan smirked as he saw the red glow begin to grow in his Darklords eyes. His work was done here in a way. Now it was time to build the Empire of Evil again!
Just before entering the coach to return, D'Sar turned to his knights and said "I'm going for a view topside. Stand to to battle stations. How far could they get?"
How far indeed, he thought. The Den have no sense of decency. As his backside burst into his leathery demonic wings, he soared high into the darkened wet skies. Listening to every sound he could decipher with his batlike hearing, he tried to sift through the sounds of the city, the winds and the rain. Nothing. Peering with his God granted owl sight, he pierced the night skies searching. Spiraling upward he could see nothing awry.
"Sewers!" He said as he bonked himself in the head for being so foolish. "If I were to escape those who rule the skies in flight, I would go through the sewers! How FOUL! Alfred must be retching right now."
Diving downward, he landed at the gathering of knights. "Captain...Dispatch a detail to scour the sewers. Bring slaves and comb them for clues. I need to know where they dwell."
As you wish, milord... Except...
Permission to speak freely sir?"
D'Sar nodded sagely.
"I have a feeling that strategically, that may not make sense. In the trenches I've heard rumours of these Den folk. They may be simply working for a higher power. They're brutes for hire at times. Why else would one want to kidnap a butler?"
Darkstar slumped his shoulders. He was getting depressed. Alfred was like a father to him. A confidante. There had to be a logical reason as to why this was done. But the Den of Iniquity aren't logical beings. They react on either urges or money. Someone would have paid them. But speculating wastes energies. What was needed was to at least attempt to use his scrying pools and mystic mirrors to get a bead on the whereabouts of his butler.
"Captain, I presume you are correct. I will return to my chambers and see what magics if any will help find out at least a DIRECTION to start in. Hold off on the search until I'm finished. Take the coach back. I" he stammerd a moment " ... I need to fly. You're in command, Captain."
"Aye aye...s...* "The captain stopped short. His dark lord was gone.
High up in the clouds of Kjeldoran he flew. Undaunted by wind or rain or even the lightning, the man bat flew to high above the storm clouds. He wasn't happy. Flying high enough he felt he could touch the stars, the moon glared at him. It was a bright moon. An energizing moon.
"I am immortal...and have seen many mortals fall during the years. Alfred is crossbred. Mortal, yet not. Vampire, yet not. He was to stay by my side for eternity. Or at least until one of us had been destroyed to the point of no return like poor Nem...e...s...isssss....."
Darkstar snapped his fingers. "NEMESIS 2.0!!!" he blurted to himself aloud amongst his audience of clouds. "THE NORLONDARIANS!! By the god of all gods, Morakai, that's IT! Ooooh who needs magic when you have a keen mind for deduction! Somehow, I smell the kitten goddess involved in this! I resurrected Nemesis, Keethrax and Porthios, with Norlondarian magics of Morakai, granted me by the higher gods to bring back Captain Kurgan! I guess it is evident that they are displeased in my use of energies and spells lent for that reanimation used again without permission! "
The night air and full moon was clearing his mind. He now speculates what his crime and punishment may have been. Now he has to figure out the next move. He can't very well storm Norlondar and take Alfred by force even if that is where he truly is. The magic used there is far more powerful than any vampire could wield or battle alone. This was going to have to be more diplomatic than anything. He must return to the Tower and inform the council and its officers of his speculation. Then possibly wait for the Norlondarian demands.
Folding his wings and aiming towards the Tower of High Sorcery clan hall in the Dark Citadel, he plunges faster and faster in a dive that would sheer the skin off of a horse with such speed. He enjoys this kind of flight. The exhilarating speed of the dive can be energizing as he approaches closer and closer, now under the raining clouds. Spreading his mighty demonic wings, he slows his descent in such a daring and spiraling aerobatics fashion the air-riding Navarre would be proud of.
Returning through an open window in his chambers of the mansion, he landed softy, folding his wings into himself, then quickly merging them back into his body as if never there, damp cloak covering where they once were.
Removing the cloak, he headed to the meditation room. There he would find his mystic pools and mirrors in attempt to find his lost friend.
The pool was more of a basin made of Obsidian. It was filled with a mixture of water, blood and potions. Stirring the water with his fingers, he began to chant.:
The pools began to mist and and grow brighter. What was normally clear on this mode of insight, was still murky and clouded. Greater magic than his was blocking his sight. Sketchy scenes of Alfred being forced to do demeaning acts flashed almost indecipherable. Visions of madmen rudely abusing the Gentleman's gentleman was despicable. A flash of a hawk eyes passed by. A vision of a cave also flashed briefly...but nothing clear. As it would seem nothing at ALL would be clear this dark eve. A wave of his hand and the mist faded.
Slumping into a large thronelike chair he sat. He wanted a bloodwine from the stress, so he rang his summoning bell. To no answer...of course, so he slaps himself for being so forgetful. Placing his head on his fist, he sat and brooded, staring at a flickering candle... and for a brief moment ...felt unnaturally ...alone.
To be frank, it was more like a debaucherous night on the town than a recruitment party. It was raining that dark night in Kjeldoran. Rain that came down hard in a stinging fashion on the flesh. Not far from the Market Square, a team of horses sat by a long dark carriage in front of the tavern, standing strong and defiant.
Past the establishments entrance, the barmaids milled about the bar, serving drinks to those in the front room. Trays of food filled the nostrils of those awaiting meals at dark candle lit booths. Warriors not dining, played games of chance while swigging mugs of ale. To the rear, past the kitchen was the rear dining area, usually used for special occasions such as this.
The back room of the Kjeldoran Tavern was lit by candles. A burly barkeep wiped glasses from behind his workstation. Banners of the D'Sari were mounted in a few areas. Several D'Sari Knights of all different levels milled about, looking to keep order if any of the goodlings of the realms chose to make a scene. The party was open to anyone and D'Sar was not afraid of crashers. They can often be means of great entertainment.
Sitting in the rear on a couch, Lord D'Sar lounged. A few scantily clad slave girls knelt beside him at his feet. One with a plate of fruit, the other a fan and another with bloodwine on a silver platter.
Alfred, the Darklords faithful butler, milled about with refreshments on a silver tray of his own. Alfred loved to arrange parties. He lived for the successful soireé. He had spent 3 hours prior with a team of servants putting together the room to it's utmost best.
A quartet played little ditties by the door past the bar. And then HE walked in. Kaiko...young new leader of the Brethren of the Keen Strike clan. With head held high and defiant, he took a seat at the left bar and ordered an ale. He was here to watch, possibly steal recruits and to attempt to heckle the would be D'Sarian pledges. Darkstar noticed him through squinted eyes as he slipped the wine goblet past his fangs.
"Dark eve to you, Kaiko..." Darkstar said as he raised his eyebrow and lifted his glass in acknowledgement. Kaiko simple nodded and tipped his hat galantly.
Various stragglers entered the rear room out of , if anything, curiousity.
Then two young pledges, sponsored by Captain Kurgan sauntered in. Zaphod and Xile. After filling out forms at a station near the door, they approached the Darkstar and greeted the vampire. Bowing deeply, they introduced himself. D'Sar stood up and shook each outstretched hand. "Welcome pledges! Let's go over a few things, shall we? Sit please..." he said as he sat back down." As you may or may not know, the Tower of High Sorcery is open to ANYONE living or undead, magician or not as long as your heart is pure and burns with evil. We exist in shadow and attack in packs. We favour honour amoungst evil in the same fashion as honour amoungst thieves. The brood is your family. Your broodmates are your lifeline. This is the way of the D'Sari. Our evil is tasteful and nefarious. We are allied with Lord Ahriman and his Dark Ahrmy, the clan known as Hellfire... Once your paperwork is approved, you each will walk amoungst the proudest of evil clans, shoulder to shoulder with head held high...." Darkstar went on to explain more of the D'Sarian ways.
Others wandered in occasionally. Some there to simply smirk at the D'Sarian presence and its attempt to sway more to the dark path and the Dark Alliance and rebuild the crumbling Tower.
Even Kaiko made feeble attempts to heckle the party, yet a few attending Hellfire shot him down with even wittier retorts for the dark side.
As Darkstar was speaking, silent as the cat she is, the demonic vampcat crossbreed, Kioska, leader of the Misfits Hideout clan wandered in, wet from the rain she was trying to avoid.
"Ahhh Kioska! Welcome to my event...Alfred, see if the kitty wants a saucer of milk!" D'Sar chortled."
"Having fun, Darkstar?" Said the feline.
"Oh I'm having a splendid time...although I was hoping for more of a turnout. Alfred....remind me to send out invitations with a bit of a longer lead time next time?" He quipped to his butler, who nodded silently in return.
The cat-vampire sat down at a table a few feet from the man bat and began to ask questions. The questions were not disrespectful, merely curious. She asked about what the thought D'Sars visions of the future of Kjeldoran would be if the war was won by the Alliance.
They conversed for a while as the party was obviously coming to a slow dull roar, and Darkstar figured that `twas time to pack it in.
D'Sari Knights and servants helped pack up the party as Darkstar and Alfred made they're way out to the carriage. Due to the rain, it had been moved to another area, covered for the horses. As they walked, Darkstar made note of his disappointment in the turn out to Alfred. Captain Kurgan and a few D'Sarian Knights flanking behind, He chose to wait under the awning as Alfred went to fetch the coachman.
After about 15 minutes, Darkstar couldn't figure out whether he was furious, anxious or annoyed. Either way, this was taking too long. Captain Kurgan dispatched a guard detail to go see what was taking the butler so long with the coach.
After 5 minutes two Knights returned in a rush. "Lord D'Sar! LORD D'SAR!!" they shouted.
"What is it?" he snapped. As the coach came to the front entrance, he asked, "where's Alfred?"
"They took him sir...he's ..he's GONE!!!" the guard exclaimed.
Darkstar stepped out into the rain and ran to trace the butlers steps with Kurgan close behind. Darkstar stopped. Rain soaked his cloak and dripped down his nose as he sniffed the air with his batlike sense of smell. He caught a whiff of something foul. A sour smell he thought he hadn't smelled in years and thought he'd never smell again. Glaring about he peered about, looking for clues. A button from Alfreds coat laid there... And someone had dropped a leather bandana in the struggle. That answered the question... "Den..." he muttered. Then throwing back his head he roared a mighty howl upward. "DEEEEEEEEEN!!!!" All that answered back was the rain. It seems everyone's favourite faithful butler had been abducted by the Den of Iniquity clan. A band of devil may care miscreants who'll do anything for money or for the simple animal urge to just DO. This was not an accident. This was planned. Typically, a run in with Den means death. In this case, kidnapping was not really their style. This was a hit. This was planned. This must be the work of...
"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!"
A screech pierced the drenched night sky.
Darkstar had noticed, that when his head was thrown back, he saw something perched on a gargoyle. It looked to be a hawk. HER hawk. Rutger was back. Nodding at D'Sar it flew off into the rain soaked night.
"To the Mansion, everyone!" said the somber and angered vampire. Eyes glowing red he growled , "We've got some work to do."