A string quartet plays slow ominous strings, off in the corner as Darkstar lounged on a large tufted black leather chair in a sitting room of the Citadel Sinister and talked with Alfred. Bloodwine was poured into his titanium goblet.
"Where's the challenge, old chum?" D'Sar said solemnly to Alfred. "The clan is quite strong and highly feared throughout all of Kjeldoran...only it feels... Empty. The Church of Shadows, although we don't entirely see eye to eye on some issues, has found it advantageous to stand shoulder to shoulder alongside us in battle. The Stygian Temple, full of naught more than D'Sarian defectors, traitors and weeklings, are no longer a threat. Lieutenant Drizzt successfully defended the hall single handedly against several of them as they attempted invasion just a short time ago...."
Alfred interrupted, " he did quite well sir... I watched him from one of my hidden vantage points. He needed no assistance whatsoever. He slaughtered them like suckling pigs and took the equipment off of their writhing dieing bodies..."
The Darklord squinted and smiled a pleased smile then he nodded and continued.
"Splendid! It IS glorious, isn't it? But all this is but a prelude to the inevitable. The showdown between the Order of the Tainted Shade, and ourselves is in the stars. I must take absolute control of all evil. I cannot allow Ahriman and his Ahrmy to continue to flourish. We must hone our skills...on something or someone."
Alfred quipped, "The Crusaders are growing in numbers, sir."
In a gasp of disgusted dismay, the demonlord almost gagged on his goblet of bloodwine. His fangs dripped red, yet he took a handkerchief out to wipe the escaping drool as he spat. "The Crusaders?!?! Those pompous posturing fools actually puff their chests out with as much false pride as their poultry patriarch, Navarre!! We shall pluck them like four and twenty blackbirds to be baked in a pie! This should be good practice for the clan. We shall carve a few birds for a feast fit for a true god of evil!!"
Alfred reflected upon other evil clans to ask; "And what of the Ninth Circle, m'lord?"
Raising an eyebrow, evil laid forth an answer; "They've taken a back seat to the whole campaign. They either fight with us or against us. A clan devoting itself to an unseen, unknown source of evil is just wasting its efforts until it comes to its senses. Oddly enough, I'd rather they concentrated on any type of evil as long as it has nothing to do with strengthening Ahriman. It's time to rally. It's time to let this realm fear the ominous sound of our approaching footsteps, cower to the rumble of our war machines and angst over the aura of the descending Darkforce!"
Darkstar grew quiet a moment... Almost somber, he whispered; "I will have my papal place as the rightful pope of all evil... NOTHING will disway my conviction! Nothing!"
And so, they sat and drank... For as much good as that would do as gods cannot get drunk...
"Summon my officers. I seek an audience. It's time we kicked this up a notch." he said in a contemplative state.
Alfred stood, walked to a silk rope, and pulled it. The future is now. This ve y moment heralds as the prelude to major war. Off to the side, the quartet played they're dark somber symphonic sonnet. If you listen carefully... You may hear it yourself.