"How long has it been?" D'Sar scribbles into his journal. He uses a quill and inkwell still. Not because he's technologically challenged, but because he prefers it that way. The inkwell is full of blood and the pages are made from the top 3 epidermal layers of dried human or goblin flesh and the binding is dragonscale and platinum trimmed. Dressed in nothing but a white laced front tunic and black riding trouser tights, he sits at his desk with two candles to each side of him, where he writes...and laments.
"Rather, how long has it been simply since I last made any entries in this journal?" He pondered as he began his long sordid train of events. Quill quenched, he places the nib to page and creates the arcs that is his cursive handwriting.
"Aaaaah diary. Where shall I begin? I've returned to the Tower, or should I say, FORMER Tower, and so much had changed. My new brood is forming slowly. I found a few wayward old friends along the way. Captain Kurgan had returned, along with Commander Volrath. Vlasco is back in action, aided by assimilated former Silent Ravens leader, Captain Duragon. Slowly they come, to return to the brood or to join it simply because they choose to follow me and my brand of evil.
However, I am disturbed by some new developments. Captain Azrael seems to have shaken his mental deficiencies and has taken Commander Stick with him off to a different clan. So much for loyalty, I tell you. They've gone to a sorcery clan. The Stygian Temple, so it's called, which is quite reminiscent of the old Tower of High Sorcery. It seems they even adopted our old clan colours. The nerve of them! Their patron deity is a young upstart. Sort of a Phoenix god, named Dulthail. A god of rebirth who for some reason feels that we, the undead, are the final clog in his drain when it comes to the process of regeneration. Now he's taken some of my brood and worse yet, turned them all against me. This annoys me to no end. If their sole purpose is to get my goat and make me their nemesis, then so be it!"
D'Sar's eyes began to glow red with fervor as did his agitation. His agenda along with a cloud of anger was forming and it wasn't nice at all. His new brood was having troubles with the more evil or gray sided clans than the good ones he was sworn to destroy. The Dominion, who like that cursed Den of Iniquity, both with skills for death and destruction, were for hire. Both of which vexed him constantly. The Order of the Tainted Shade was another evil clan under the thumb of the Dark Liege, Ahriman.
"Ahriman..." D'Sar mutters, spitting out the name in disgust as he ponders the former Dark Alliance. "By all accounts, I should have been next in line for Dark Liege had anything happened to my former Liege, Exodus..." he spoke aloud. "...but had Ahriman not chosen to battle him, had his sword not plunged into Exodus' chest and turned black with his essence of evil as it left his waning form... I would never had to have been subjected to his barbaric form of evil, his moronic Hellfire clan and those new insipid upstarts, OTS!"
A female slave girl raised her hand, yet never her eyes, to ask a question. D'Sar nodded that she may speak. "O endarkened one...Why is it can't YOU be the Dark Liege? I mean....if your 'brand' of evil is so much the superior, M'Lord, why do you not show it?"
The night creature stopped for a moment, stared off in another direction, tilted his head and raised his eyebrow. "Intriguing..." he whispered.
Darkstar continued feverishly. He wrote with vehemence, anger and conviction, pondering the slaves simple, almost childish in it's simplicty, of questions. He was upset...and rightfully so.
"Perhaps, 'tis time for a battle for all evil. I must fortify my new clan...prepare them for the ultimate skirmish. The war of all evils. This must be executed with cunning and covertness like the most perfect game of chess. If only I had not lost so many during the recent changes. The only drawback is that this could very well lead to the realms complete destruction..almost near Armageddon! No matter what, I must try if for nothing but gaining the respect I so rightfully deserve!"
He was annoyed by the state of the realms. His command structure and loyalties had been usurped. His trust was betrayed, thus he continued to vent. Dipping his quill in the blooded inkwell once again, he began to write more. This time he chose to take a deep breath first, have a sip of bloodwine and write of other developments. D'Sar tapped his shoulder and suddenly a pair of pale female hands with nails painted blood red, slipped from behind him and massaged his shoulders as he scribed.
"What absolutely tickles me to no end out of all these new clans...is this 'Ninth Circle' clan. The daft fools follow a deity they identify only as 'Satan'...allegedly the true god of all evil, yet these simpletons don't realize that in the language that word comes from, Satan only means 'fallen one'....a title only." For a moment, he snickered at the foolish irony of mortals as he wrote.
"So this invisible god they serve with no name save for a title...may as well be ME as I am the lord of all evil and the undead...and if there ever was a fallen one, it is I!"
He could say it...but could he truly BELIEVE it? With Ahriman as Dark Liege, the conquest for supreme evil (or great Satan) will be a most difficult one. D'Sar is more demon than anything, yet he's let the memories of his vampiric roots linger far too long. Though his appearance is tailored more to what mortals WANT to see, oft times a sensual seductive mesmer, or some dark animal shape, few know his true form...doubtful they ever will. Nevertheless he continues to write.
"The day I was to return to Kjeldoran, was an odd day. The chamber maid that visited that day to help us pack had aroused my blood lust. After Rutger, Kali's sentinel hawk made his appearance, I was flustered. Thus I decided to take her, ravage her, then turn her. She is mine now...wandering Kjeldoran sucking souls from the unsuspecting. No matter.
Anyway, the day of our call homeward was the tricky day. Inter-dimensional travel, (gating from one area of space and time mystically through the magic of the demon-spawn) is one thing for a Demonic god to do, but to take an undead butler turned oracle and a freshly turned vampling through with you is truly an experience. Through the portal of innerspace, the dazzling multi colourful display of swirling light can nearly scramble mortal thought patterns. In this case it practically reversed the madness within Alfred and changed my new acquisition into some sort of screaching mad harpy. I'd say in a strange way, all turned out better than expected. My butler is back to normal, and now I have successfully released a new pseudo nasty out into the realms to pillage and terrorize...who's not half bad to look at if I must say..."
D'Sar was interrupted by a knock on his chamber entrance.
"Milord! I have the new building plans you requested for the new 'Citadel Sinister'" a voice cried through the door.
"COME!" he bellowed back, scribbling these final words in his entry for the day as Alfred, now back to his dapper perfectly pressed self, strolled in with the building blueprints for a fabulous new D'Sarian compound.
"Well my page filled confidente, the new plans are here. Til next I bloody your pages again..." were his last words as he closed the flesh bound volume and turned it's key in the platinum lock.