D'Sarian lore

Outrageous betrayal.

“How could it happen again??!!?” The demon lord exclaimed in dismay. “Betrayed yet again by Triston ?!?! "
*Editors note: Confused? See: "Traitors cannot usurp the path to endarkenment." *

“But HOW My Lord?” said Alfred. They were alone in his chambers. But it seems to be that it’s hard to trust ANY situation in these realms. “Where-bats” and Hellhounds are dispatched to survey the compound.. They are given strict instruction to sniff out, seek out or hear out anything that seems awry.

“I just don’t know. Triston had been slain by the Kitten Goddess Kali herself for his treachery. His assuming the guise of two of my officers was betrayal enough, but to rise from the dead and do it again??!?!? HOW!?!?!?” He exclaimed pounding his fist on the desk. The blow so hard with frustration, his muscles rippled with demonic fire as he smashed the hardened redwood desk into splinters. He was quite perturbed. Pulling a pencil sized splinter from it’s newly imbedded home in his forehead and flicking it away, Alfred stared at D’Sar with a forlorn look, partly in concern for the violent display the demonic master was showing.. Darkstar slumped in the desk chair to brood what was happening.

“Dulthail!” Darkstar snapped as if a light had gone on in his head.“He’s … a god of phoenix resurrection! As the patron of the Stygian Temple, our sworn enemies...he MUST be the key to Tristons return! What’s worse, he betrayed me in the guise of Gartue. I’ve never been more disgusted in the security around here.”

Speaking of security, just at that moment, a “where-bat’ flitted through a small opening in the wall and alighted itself upon D’Sar’s shoulder, where it squeaked it’s flying mouse code to the ears of the man-bat. This was a messenger class bat. He relays the messages from the main “where-bats” that are much larger, from the Pteropus conspicsllatus class which stalk the night betwixt a 5 foot wing span. This tiny die fledermaus was merely relaying their alert. Murders of crows were seen about the compound, along with strange hounds who would satiate themselves on Citadel carcass fodder, cast away in the trash. These are reported not to be strays. Alas. They were too well trained. They carried an enchanted aura and had a distinct scent. The citadel was leaking security and something was to be done about it.

D’Sar’s eyes shifted from left to right. As he listened to the report they grew into that all too familiar menacing red glow again.

“ Crows…” he muttered. "Only one being uses crows… that cretinous magpie, Navarre. Evidently he hasn’t let bygones be even in his return. Surely his Crusaders are in cahoots with the Temple. It’s too coincidental”

Snarling in annoyance, he sprang from his chair to grab for a bell ribbon. “Sound General Quarters! Lock this complex down! Summon my officers to the war room for a briefing in one hour! Oh…and get someone to clean up this mess and get me a me new desk. “ He exclaimed to the D’Sari Knights who snapped to attention upon the bells ring to hear his orders.

“MY LORD! YES MY LORD!” They answered in vehement unison. Snapping to attention, they turned on heel to heed his orders.

“Alfred old boy... he continued to his confidante, “I need you to clear the area surrounding. Stay in the shadows. Look for ANYTHING that seems out of the ordinary. It’s hard to know who to trust now a days… But you my friend… at least I have you… And Commodore Kurgan. It seems this war is bigger than we thought. “

The lunar listener.

It was winter in Kjeldoran. The night brought a snow in a world so cold it chilled the flesh to feel as if it were on fire. D'Sar stood atop the roof of the Infernal Citadel staring into the night sky. He does not feel this cold. His breath makes no mist from his lips for the undead are cold to the core. Only those whose hearts pump can create the heat it takes to even have a vapor leave their lips.

He is ponderous as the snow flails about his head, blowing his long black hair off to the side in tandem with his Infernal Cloak of the Insidious Void. Draped open about his body, it unfurls into the wind, black and menacing like some large enveloping flag of evil in wait for a salute.

His gaze to the moon, his thoughts fell to the past several days. "O great orb in the sky, my old friend and bastion of the night..." he began to speak upon the lunar sphere which glowed white and full in the blustering sky. "The Order is doing well, growing fast and strong. I beam with pride when I think of the progress. So many have returned to fight the bad fight in the name of the D'Sari Knights. This city of Kjeldoran trembles now when they hear us storm the streets. Clans speak our name in either whispers or shouts of disgust as they shake their fists in frustration.." he said to the iced winds.

"Our name is stronger and more feared than when we wore the colours of the Tower of High Sorcery. So many failed campaigns. So many times even at our mightiest as Tower, they scoffed at our prowess. They will scoff no more. The Crusaders, sworn against the advancement of the brood, are too few in numbers to pose any threat. The Stygian Temple, filled with former traitors to the brood and its misfit magicians dare not face us, save for their propaganda. What threats can mere words be? The Ninth Circle, so busy in worship to a god of evil in which they throw blind faith yet have no proof of , is our latest agenda. I suppose it leads up to the title fight, eh? The final round against the OTHER Order of the realms. Ahrimans Ahrmy, the Order of the Tainted Shade sits in wait. By now they must know we're coming for them. Battle after battle we shun the former Dark Alliance as we gear up to win the ultimate crown.... Knocked off of Ahrimans tin plated knights head...." he spat angrily through clenched fanged teeth.

His eyes began to glow red as he thought of the "Dark Liege" Ahriman, as king of the evil world. A title that rightfully should have gone to him after the fall of the former liege Exodus. "Time and tide is on our side. The momentum swings our way. If this battle brings on Armeggedon, then so be it. In the end, ONE shall be crowned king and the undead brood shall stand by the throne at my right hand! THIS I SWEAR!!! " he bellowed as he shook his fist into the wind at the moon.

"My Lord, would you care for a spot of tea?" said a voice to his rear. Swirling about with cape wildly following, Darkstar looked upon Alfred, his undead man servant. Like a loving father calling his son to come in to bed, he walked with a sterling silver tea set to greet him.

"Thank you Alfred. I just came out for some air." the demonlord replied.
"I'd say you've gotten enough for the entire compound." Alfred quipped wryly.
" Yes, old chum... Alas, you may be right" He said as he sipped from a freshly poured hot cup of Earl Gray.
"Perhaps it is time for you to retire sir." Alfred suggested as his master stared at the moon longingly as if in silent conversation still. A few moments passed in silence. The tea steam wafted through the air until the it was cooled by the nights wintery touch. Disgusted in the way the tea had lost it's robustness, he broke the solitary sound of the whistling winds.

" Mayhaps you speak truth, old friend." D'Sar replied as he took a final sip, returned the cup to the tea tray, turned and walked with his butler to the door. Taking a moment to look back at the moon, he winked at it, as if to thank the celestial orb for listening without judgment.

*Editors note: A crossblog sequel appears in
"The The lunar listener Part II" from "Quothe the Raven, Navarrian musings"