A Darklord's Lore

The accidents of gods.

In the past few months, the Order began to crumble. Nothing was the same and situations only seemed to worsen.

D'Sar went to the rooftop to train. He's always been more than a god, he's a warrior and no matter what, one must practice his skill with a darksaber. He does this to clear his mind. The full moon beamed it's ethereal glow behind him as he twisted and thrusted. The swoosh of his weapon and the hum of it's dark energy makes for a rather threatening sound. Ominous in it's tone, it lunged and parried in the air menacingly.

He pondered much of the last few months. Gritting his teeth at the clans current state of affairs. Gone they were.
Kurgan, Ozmar, Dew, Duragon, Shamra, Vlasco and more ... Missing in action or simply missing, the Citadel Sinister was much like a house with all of it's children gone. Possibly one of the greatest evil clan in all the realms... empty.

Furiously, he thrusted the blade at imaginary enemies. The blade sounding like a million irate hornets, he leapt to the edge of the rooftop. Panting heavily, his eyes glowed with frustration. The storm clouds rolled in as they often do over this dark land. Lightning flashed arcs behind him,

"That blasted vampire child...I swear, if he wasn't for the fact that he was so close to the Kittyn Goddess, I'd slice his head off!"
He spoke of Ackmon...a newcomer to the realms from another world. The Darklord speculates that in his error, he mistakenly uttered the words of a spell with in the tomes of the Sacred Book of Morakai on a visit to the Great Tabernacle Library. The incantation cleared the realms of all organized undead. To clarify, it literally de-organized the Infernal Order of D'Sar and temporarily wiped it's roster and the memories of those that belonged in it. In essence, it cleaned the clans clock. D'Sar believes this to have affected his clan only, being the self centered egotist that he is. His vanity makes him believe there are no other clans except those that stand in his way.

Frustrated that the clanhall was now doomed for invasion, he ordered and immediate lockdown. Only there was no one to order as they were all gone. The hall was empty. All save for a scant few. Anthraxia, Dark Governess, Alfred... They milled about the groves of the Citadel Sinister wondering where everyone had gone.

Commodore's Kurgan and Orin were nowhere to be found. Captain Duragon had vanished without a trace. Nothing was left but a huge empty cavernous hall and no one to fill it. Who knew how long it would take before the wayward D'Sari would get their memories back and return?

"Alfred" he panted to his confidante, "This clan needs an enema. Brick by brick the maze needs to be rebuilt, the altar and it's clanstones moved and most importantly..."

"...some D'Sari to FILL it with, Sir?" Alfred replied as if finishing the sentence.

"Exactly." Agreed the god-bat. "I also think it's time to make a few exceptions to our rules. I think we should allow mortals in... The living evil will be a rather good change from nothing but our undead selves. The number would do us well. We need more warriors and I need my cabinet of officers. This is just too bloody bleak!"

Alfred nodded his agreement. "But first...it needs a leader." he replied.

Darkstar perched upon the edge of the castle, pondering. Then he felt an ebbing in the darkforce. A telekinetic build up of energy was coming from within the castle and it's force was rather deadly.

"Hold onto that thought, Alfred... I think I've got my answer. I'll be right back." He replied. Diving off the side of the building, he folded time and space and transported himself to the source of the telekinetic blaze.

Sitting alone, with the most horrid look upon his face stood Vlasco. He crackled with energies that began to not only manifest, but appeared to be converging inward in a deadly force.

Lord D'Sar thought it best to try and talk some sense into his old apprentice. He figured it best to tray and calm him. Breaking the silence, Darkstar spoke unto Vlasco. "I am aware of our kin's absence. The path of the D'Sari is one of many changes. Our clan has walked this path before...and we have rebuilt. Of course to do this, the altar will start anew and new blood will be brought to it. A fresh band of D'Sari will fight, and you Vlasco, my old friend, shall lead them. You have witnessed many wars, won many battles and your power is great. Now Rise Commander Vlasco, and take charge of my family, our brood... for I now grant you the rank of which you deserve ...Commodore, with which you shall guide my D'Sari Knights to victory. Lead well my friend."

Vlasco rose in awe, honor, wonder and surprise. At that moment, the two Commodores eyes met, and both acknowledged that a new D'Sarian day was beginning. There was much work to do.

SECURITY BREACH

"M'Lord!" Sergeant Ozmar blurted with desperation as he blasted through the doors of Lord Darkstar's office chambers. "We are under attack yet again!"

"Unbelievable. Did we leave out a welcome mat or perhaps some cookies and milk this time?" He retorted sarcastically. "Sound the alert! D'SARI ASSEMBLE!!"

The man bat leapt to the air, telekinetically summoning his DarkSabre to come to his outstretched hand just after the familiar yet sickening slurping sound of his leatherette wings which grew from out of his back as he took flight through the high window about 30 feet above everyone's head. At that height, the high ceilings allowed for him to gain a good propulsive gust beneath his wings as he shot out of the window.

D'Sar is a god. He is not to intervene in mortal affairs. He can guide them by voice only. He may not fight their battles for them. As the D'Sarian patron deity, he continues to follow the laws of the land and its gods. He cannot get involved. He flies to the roof of the castle in a fit of frustration wondering why he's even there. It's not as if he can get involved. Or CAN he? He stands open in battle stance as dark clouds roll in. Crouched with one leg extended, his form is catlike. His eyes once again aglow with rage even brighter than the energy blade of his darksabre. Arcs of lightning flashed behind him. Off against the night sky the huge full moon oversees all. The moment seems to freeze in time to him. He ponders what brought this turn of events as he stares and thinks back.

"The clanstones are delicate." Meathe told the immortals of the realms. "They grant great powers to each clan specific to their clan ethos. However, they can be destroyed by any mortal who captures it and drops it. If they capture it from a fallen creature, then it will also , in time, disintegrate even as it sits in the altar and cannot be regained until they regenerate."

D'Sar remembers how the D'Sarian stones secret locations had been revealed and worse yet, maps through their clans underground labyrinths and halls were now for sale on the black market. For a time, D'Sari were given the responsibility to guard the stones.

Sergeant at arms, Ozmar was last in control of them but to no avail. Once again other clans broke through to reach Citadel Sinister. Lieutenant Wrof could not successfully guard the maze as he was overwhelmed. Horda, the keyguard was also vanquished brutally in battle and the security breach was complete. It took the enlisted aid of the Church of Shadows to fortify the Citadel once again. This became tiring and tedious as nearly every day some new invasion force attempted to secure the fortress.

These thoughts angered the Darklord as he was a very private being and prided himself in keeping things secure. Looking down from the roof, he saw a Ninth Circle clanmember running through the courtyard laughing and screaming "HAIL SATAN!" They seemed to think there was some great evil god named 'Satan...yet no one else has ever heard if him.

"Hmmmmph!" the muttered, "misguided fools".

"They certainly DO know how to make a mess, don't they, sire?"
It was Alfred walking up from behind. "...were it not for Captain Duragon and Sergeant Ozmar, there'd be a much BIGGER mess. They've done rather well in defending our home, but I sense they are greatly fatigued."

"What do I do Alfred? I'm standing here atop the roof ready to swoop and cleave through them all...yet I am bound by immortal sanction." The man-bat precluded. His cape flapped proudly in the wind behind him as his wings were being pulled closer to him. "I'm poised for action yet with none logical to take".

"I'd say it's time to shut down and restructure." replied the faithful manservant. "You have too many officers and warriors scattered about on other missions or on leave. Why not secure ALL the doors and then, with this buying us some time, we find ways to negotiate for the changing of both the stones location and the reconstruction of the maze' entrance."

"I suppose you're right." D'Sar sullenly replied. Snapping his fingers he quickly drew a plan in his mind. "I'VE GOT IT!" he exclaimed. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as arcs of lightning and plasma converged about his hands, to which they struck the ground. The form of Captain Duragon materialized in a flash of multicolored light. "You summoned me, my liege?" said the proud captain on one knee.

"Captain..." D'Sar replied, "We're undergoing a lockdown until we can grab hold of the situation. Here's the plan. For the time being, the D'Sari are to virtually vanish from the realms. We will exist beyond shadow. You will all traverse the lands in disguise. None may nor shall know who you are. You will travel in your secret identities until you are summoned. A beacon shall be erected with which when activated, I may summon all to battle readiness when the time comes. Understand this...in no way are you to allow your alternate personas to be known. You shall not attempt to fight or kill in the name of the D'Sari while you are in your alternate garb. Understood?"

Duragon saluted. "As you wish, M'Lord." he replied.

"I want the men literally underground." D'Sar explained further. " When next I cry the battle cry; 'D'SARI ASSEMBLE!' let our forces rise from the ground as we the undead do. Either exist in alternate or lay undead in waiting. Those are your orders. Make them so. Carry on, Captain."

"YO HO! Commodore!" the Captain replied in a snap as he bowed, turned on his heels and left the Lord of Darkness.

"Perhaps it's time we called it a night, eh Sir? It looks like the threat is on the run." observed Alfred.

"I know...I know...but...but I haven't KILLED anyone today." Darkstar pouted.

"We know sire, we know. Mayhaps in a fortnight..." Alfred somberly replied in a slightly condescending way.

D'Sar slumps and looks towards the storm rolling in. Pulling his wings back within himself, he turns and heads back towards the stairs, and mutters to a guard, "Secure all levels".

From afterparty to darkened Ahrmy...

It was 7 am the following morning. Daybreak had not yet broken. The Grand Hall was a disaster. Chairs all over the floor, the stench of dead uneaten mortal flesh began to become ripe. Blood on the floors and tables. Articles of clothing strewn about from the vampiress bunch. They get a tad rowdy after some wine, some blood and some bloodwine. D'Sar and Alfred, his faithful manservant surveyed the aftermath. They walked slowly as if they were examining the ruins of a city after battle.

"A literal bloody mess this is Alfred. But I can't say they didn't have their spirits lifted. Your team can handle this of course, can they not, old chum?" Darkstar broke the verbal silence. "Certainly Sir... I've a double duty team on it. They are due in an hour." replied his efficient gentleman's gentleman.
"Alfred, what's that large crack in the floor? It wasn't there yesterday..."

"The governess, sire." he explained." At her gigantic size, somehow she actually imbibed enough from the vats that she fell on her posterior. A most embarrassing situation if you ask me. But no matter. Everyone else was so far into their fun, they either missed it or laughed it off. Except for some poor slave she squashed like a bug as she stumbled. Now unlike those of our undead comrades under the effects of the Elements of Endarkenment where they take only one quarter of the actual damage they would normally endure in battle, making the undead even that much more...undead, this unwitting sap got in her path and disappeared under her boot. I believe we're standing in the exact pile of ooze now." said Alfred with disgust as they both looked down at the pile of bones and blood. Darkstar rolled his eyes and mustered something about his bloodied new dress boots then turned to Alfred to say "I think it's time I went off to my chambers. My Crypt calls... Handle the cleanup supervision. I must be off." As he walked away from Alfred, we waived his hand up into the air as if to say "dark eve", only he wasn't looking at anything but the door before him. He was tired in a way. Not the usual tired. He's a God. How tired can they get? This was more of a fatigue. Something's were weighing on his mind.

As he walked outside, he could see the sunrise. Were these the olden days before he were a demonlord, he would have burnt to cinders at the first rays of light. As he looked past the dark dismal clouds that lingered over the Citadel, he saw the beams of sunlight bathe the other realms. He thought for a moment and then leapt to the air with a mighty god powered bound. With that, the slurping noise made it's presence known as the batlike folds of leathery flesh extended from his back and continued his lift into the air.

High into the morning air, he headed towards the sun over Kjeldoran. As he was reaching the outskirts of the city he looked over to the southwest. A sound caught him. His bat hearing heard a clash of swords and grunts. It was from the courtyards of Castle Ahriman.

Curiosity got the better of the man-bat as he circled high above out of mortal view. This gave him an idea... Something about the sounds he heard made him think and remember. "Blast you, Armanon!! I don't know how Farg puts up with your showboating!" could be heard from the clashing combatants. As a General, D'Sar had engineered many a battle and always enjoys watching a good skirmish. He wanted a better look at this brawl, undetected. Stepping through the folds of time and interdimensional space, he left a cloud of brimstone behind him as he left his altitude orbit and reappeared about 30 yards from the warrior, Armanon, who once had a brother in the D'Sari. How this one ended up with the Dark Ahrmy, he didn't know. He often wondered what his brother taught him over the years. A mild incantation and the D'Sari Master was invisible to any mortal. Stepping closer he watched as he leaned against a tree and watched the sparring match. A thrust of a sword to Armanons ear caused him to move his shoulders quickly to the right. With his left gauntlet, he deflected the glancing blow, twisting his glove hand to catch the blade as he swung his arm around the shaft itself. Using his right hand, he quickly thrust his fist into the blade held steady by his under arm and shattered it.

"Remarkable.... The Darkforce is strong in this one...."like his brother before him. He fights well... Too well." he muttered to himself wondering what D'Sarian secrets had been lost and leaked throughout the realms.

Watching as they gathered and chortled, he noticed there were quite a bit of them. They each had shields emblazoned with Ahrimans armored fist of fire symbol. Even their practice fatigues had Ahrmy symbols or colors on it. Some had slogans: "Tactician of the Shade" or "Alchemist of the Shade". That was a D'Sari trait.... An old one, but D'Sarian nonetheless. Back when the D'Sari were a fledgling society, the only way one knew one D'Sari from another was the color combination they wore. "Such pride... Such a show of force. We're to combat this?? No... Alas, I shall improve upon it. The D'Sari have become lax. I have been to familiar with them. I have let them become bloated pompous egos. Look at THIS! This is organization! This is structure. This is unison! And so MANY of them... All individuals yet soldiers unified in mind, body, spirit, fit and finish. I've not seen this for quite sometime. This was the way of the D'Sari! No wonder there are some many heads of the dead of kills on the victory spires. The seem to outgun us 3 to 1!!" Darkstar gasped to himself. "Something must be done about all of this if we're to win this war. Elements of Endarkenment aside, we need every advantage. I could kick myself for being so undisciplined! I must have words with my officers.... he continues to mutter as he leaps skyward once again to return to the Citadel with an entirely reformatted outlook on those he may have underestimated.

Business during pleasure.

Inside the Grand Hall, the spread was in it's finest grandeur. It's hard keeping the right foods for the right undead. There were mortals chained beneath tables with their shaved skulls sticking through holes at one table. This was for the zombies. They had an insatiable appetite for mortal brains of differing types. It's been said that half Orc brain is saltier than whole Orc and that human brain is softer and more buttery in texture than say, Drow. The best, by mass opinion... is Elf brain. The worst is Minotaur brain. Too small, not satisfying and bitter. Mallets and chisels were supplied to make access to the fresh warm cranial meat easier.

Vampires got fresh young virgins strapped to tables with the bare necks open for display. Some had tubes injected into them, leading to a dispensing device. Platinum goblets lined the tableside as those thirsty for blood would take one and fill it with the sweet crimson nectar of life. Vampires can be rather cruel. They enjoy psychologically teasing the prey before they partake in it. Taunting them with words make them feel dominant and powerful. Vampires can tend to be overly egotistical.

Heucevas are easier. Like ghosts and wisps, they don't eat. They're just large skeletons with no organs to sustain. Demons, on the other hand, eat anything alive or dead. It doesn't even necessarily have to be good. They're sloppy gluttons at times. They tend to leave a mess.

As the festivities rambled on, D'Sar walks to different tables. He's a being of the people, as long as they are HIS people. During occasions such as this, flanked by his highest officers, he meanders from table to table, shaking hands and making the brood know that they are one huge family. He's truly a man about town.

"Ozmar!" shouts the Darklord with a wry smile. " I see General Rixx has been rather meager on his rewards for your quests. He doesn't hate you... He just sees great potential for leadership in you. He tells me he expects you and Shamra to be quite the pair of D'Sari Knights one day! He only pushes those he sees greatness in." says the endarkened pope of evil as he stops at the table of Shamra, Dew, Ozmar, Vox, Naythyn and Vlasco and spreads compliments over the past battles and asks that the kill board start rising in stats. "Yo-HO, M'LORD!!!" they shout in unison. This makes him smile. Captain Duragon sits at the head of this table, polishing one of the medals on his dress blacks. They were discussing which of the factions, be it D'Sari Red or Black that they would wish to be members of. There's great excitement over what Darkstar said in his speech. He stops to toast with them, raising his goblet and continues on.

"M'Lord... Something pressing weighs on the mind of myself and Orin" Commodore Kurgan whispers into his ear. "May we speak somewhere more... Quiet?"

D'Sar nods, motions for Commodore Orin to follow as they slip into a back ready room unnoticed.

The room is dimly lit with two candles on the large polished wooden table, sitting on a red velvet tablecloth. Torches are on the walls, but only two themselves. A door off to the rear leads to a secret tunnel leading off to some other mysterious place in the Citadel. A lone D'Sari flag is behind the largest chair, which is D'Sars at the head of the room. Each warrior puts his goblet on the table. The two Commodores pull out their chairs.

"Gentlemen... What vexes you?" He says as he motions for them to sit. D'Sar prefers to stand behind his high backed chair as his officers sit to each side.

Kurgan begins. "My Liege, it's the Church of Shadows. Kaiko, their leader and I have been speaking on occasion. He mentioned something about a conversation you once had with him about common goals. Yet at a moments notice, we strike at their forces..."

The Darklord interrupts. he'd anticipated the eventual conversation. "Aaaah yes.... Kaiko. Say no more. I know what's on your mind. Let me explain." His pacing quickens a bit as he discusses the Church. "Kaiko is a young upstart. Driven, passionate and mildly megalomaniacal. In many ways he reminds me of myself in my younger days. Young...impetuous. Thirsty for power, hungry for absolution." D'Sar muses. "I remember this. Allow me to spell it out for you. We are in a war to rid the realms of the Dark Ahrmy. Now this may sound strange, but the Church and ourselves are not allies. There is no official treaty and there shall be none. However, in the event of a public battle, the Dark Ahrmy, as a target, is tantamount. We may fight shoulder to shoulder for the same cause; to destroy Ahriman and his forces to the end of implementing me as Dark Liege of the realms. There should be no common denominator but that. By all means, you may clash heads with whomever you wish in their clan if you see no real enemy about. Their goal is the same as ours. Survival of the fittest and strongest clan, yet above all the end of the Order of the Tainted Shade and the fall of the house of Ahriman."

Darkstar paced about the table. His gestures were as passionate as his billowing cloak that flowed majestically behind him. Whether speaking to two or two hundred thousand, everyone got the same energy. It was a pleasure to watch him speak. To hold court with him was a treat. "We have an agenda, " he continued, "to rid the realms of Ahriman, his forces and whomever stands in the way of true evil and darkness. The Church has values I admire in some ways. That's why I believe that this uneasy partnership has merit. Of course, after Ahriman and his band are gone, we'll move onto others that vex us, like the Ninth Circle. Their very existence insults mine and ours. Worshipping a god of evil they don't even know exists.... Preposterous! 'Satan'. Hmmmphh! I am the only great Satan here. I shall not ramble. I will say thus unto you. If you have to hire the wretched Den of Iniquity AND the Dominion as mercenaries and Assassins, then do it! Spare no expense! To increase our number, I want you to go into the Temple Square and advertise our intent on growth. I have seen the plans for Kaiko's advertising campaign and I find it brilliant. We MUST do the same. Get some people on it immediately. Now with all that out of the way, shall we return to the party? I have allot of dance cards to fill tonight." quipped the Darkstar as he graciously held the door for his officers and smiled. "This is a party gentlemen. I know it was a somber funeral before, but lets lift some spirits above, so to speak...shall we?"

And with that, the door from the conference room was closed as they re-entered the party.

The quick and the undead.

It had been a series of long campaigns as the war lingered on. It was a peculiar war because it seemed almost...unofficial. No direct declarations of war were ever succinctly professed. The sides were becoming more prominent however. Mostly it was all clan disputes. The Stygian Temple was a constant thorn in the broods side. The Crusaders were staunchly declaring the D'Sari as enemies simply because they have some prejudicial hatred towards the undead. They believe them to be animated abominations of life. Quite a rude thought if you were to ask Lord Darkstar. But could you expect any less from a clan whose patron was Navarre? It seems he still carried grudges over the last deity battle between man bat and raven.

D'Sar sat at the head of the table. It was a long wooden conference table with his department heads flanking each side.

"Gentlemen... We have issues. Rather pressing ones." D'Sar began. "First of all, we are to separate into two divisions. With our size and strength, we need to divide to conquer and integrate at the most opportune time to conquest. There will be two factions of the D'Sari. D'Sari Red and D'Sari Black. Commodore Kurgan.... You will lead Red squad. Red for the blood of our enemies to fill the bloodwine vats. Both factions will have strike teams..."
He trailed off with more strategic jargon. Kurgan, now more comfortable as one of D'Sar's most trusted commanders, was able to be more frank with his lord, while not seeming out of turn.

"M'lord... A question." Kurgan politely interrupted. D'Sar gave him an acknowledging nod as he continued his query of; "Whom shall lead D'Sari Black?"

"OH! I'm glad you asked. " With a sly grin he slowly turned to his opposite side across from Kurgan and looked to the heuceva next to him.

"No better heucevan can I think of to mirror your efforts than Captain Orin. Or should I say...COMMODORE Orin." he beamed. "Congratualtions old chum. It's been a long ride for you since our days in the Tower of High Sorcery...You shall lead your Squadron Sinister again as D'Sari Black. Show them the darkness they deserve. Let's give our new Commodore a round of applause, shall we? And lets extend to him all the same respect you give Commodore Kurgan!"

They raised their glasses of bloodwine to him and adulated his ascension in rank. D'Sar began to continue with a more serious tone.

"My brood... The war grows to higher proportions. More and more they wage against us. We must continue to assimilate more warriors. Convert those dying on the battlefield to the undead..." Turning his head to Vampire command he barked, "Vampires, you must turn more unsuspectiong mortals into the undead. I want anything that once pumped blood and anger in the same breath to forge the Darkforce through their veins. Let them know that we have room for any and all worthy warriors in our realm of the darkness. We shall conquer all!"

They cheered in their seats then stood to attention and saluted with great vigor. "Yo-HO, My Lord!" they shouted.

Somberly he let his eyes lower as he went on.
"Now with a heavy head, we must attend to the troops outside at the ceremony and let them know that all is not lost as we put one of our own to permanent rest. I've a surprise announcement for you all there also."

They followed D'Sar in procession. The Dark Orchestra played D'Sar's Imperial March. Spirits lifted only slightly for they knew to expect more, for D'Sar was known for his uprising speeches.

It was a dark dismal day outside at the Citadel Sinister as they all stood behind the compound at it's place of eternal resting. Yes, there are times when the undead just simply STAY dead. The trees wound and gnarled into the sky, leafless and lifeless, even in Kjeldorans late springtime. The crowds of warriors gathered for Lord D'Sar to speak to his forces, in hopes of some sort of inspiration.

The D'Sari stood fast at the ceremony. Another had fallen in battle. This time they had lost a true warrior.

"This lieutenant showed great diligence and dedication to the Brood. He had more lives than a cat, however this was one life spent too many. The gods have seen it fit to clear the realms of his memory... Yet we shall never forget his service to the D'Sarian Order." D'Sar eulogized.

As they draped the D'Sarian flag over his crypt for the last time, they laid the warrior into the ground. Anthraxia wiped a tear from her tiny pixie eye. It was hard to see an undead pass into eternity. Worse yet, this one was annihilated by the gods for unknowing treachery. He had betrayed the trust of the Kitten Goddess and her wrath had made him an example to which even the great orator, the mighty Darkstar, could not argue his case. Intellocrats are not one to lose when logic prevails. All that was left now was to give the fallen officer a warriors funeral as he would never walk the realms again.

"My brood.... With whom I love as brethren, family and comrades... This is not a day to mourn. This is a day to rejoice. Our numbers have been quickly increasing. Old friends return to us, like Vlasco and Ozmar, one of the original D'Sari when I campaigned to gain the Tower as a clan of our own... Shamra, an old warrior who has finally chosen after much consideration, his path to glory. In turn we've said goodbye to many whom just could not celebrate the glory of the dark side. We restructure to compensate, for our reign as the realms current strongest clan...is slipping. The Order of the Tainted Shade is creating more havoc than desired. The Dark Ahrmy is STEALING our thunder so to speak. They grow in greater unison. The numbers of dead at their hands has DOUBLED ours. Between them and the Stygians, there are forces afoot that are making our jobs much harder. The line must be drawn HERE! THIS far...NO further! I believe we can continue to streamline ourselves into a brood force that will eventually win this war!"

The crowd cheered. They enjoyed D'Sars speeches. He was eloquent, exuding a commanding gait and an aire of class. His words rolled off so smoothly, he could be telling you your house was on fire and you'd smile. Everyone was in dress uniform for the ceremony of course. Polished and shined, they all stood with pride as he continued.

"In the past months we have been rebuilding the Citadel from that outdated design of the Tower, with new wings, catacombs and structures. You'll notice some of the newer partners in crime of the Citadel, from Orba, the 900 year old D'Sari Headmaster and Zarathustra as clan healer, the ever voluptuous but deadly Koruptad, our armorer and of course that old salty dog, General Rixx as your questmaster. They are here to make your tenure easier as D'Sari knights and warriors and apprentices."

D'sar geared up for the big finish and continued. "Recently, some of the other enemy clans had learned new magicks in which they became more difficult to defeat."

The brood groaned loudly with that mention as they remembered several skirmishes where they were severly beaten to the point of retreat. D'Sar waved his two hands up and down slightly to motion for them all to settle down so he may continue.

"Not to be outdone, Orba and a team of our best magicians have come to a solution. Hidden within the realms are four disguised Darkforce stones with which the names and descriptions will be secretly passed unto you. These clan stones, whence placed in the D'Sarian Altar, will unleash one of the most earth shattering, empowering clanwide spells ever! The Darkforce will course through your veins to the point of a beserker fury where NO ONE may stand in your way! My friends, I invite you to unleash... the Elements of Endarkenment!!" Darkstar shouted. His voice bellowed in echo to the highest rooftops.

With that, a magus placed the fourth stone, gathered from scattered secret hiding places in the realms, into the four appropriate spots at the front of the alter up high in the Citadel chapel. The ground trembled as thunder with no cause rumbled through the lands. The skies grew darker still as day appeared to instantly turn to night. The clouds, black and ominous, swirled about in hurricane force as lightning arched down upon the realms. The entire brood began to double over. At first they thought they were in pain when in fact the burning they were feeling actually felt quite splendid. As they each looked up at each other, they all saw a mild dark glow about their bodies. Their eyes glowed brightly and even smouldered with energy. You could hear first the crackling of energies swirling about each and every broodmate. Then in unison they all thrust their heads up and emitted a loud howl. The world seemed to tremble to the sound.
As children now ran inside their homes, shopkeeps would close their doors. Mothers locked the shutters of their homes. Farmers quickly herded livestock within barns and locked them away. Fear began to run rampant throught the realms. It was a NEW time of Darkness in Kjeldoran.

The brood all looked at each other, admiring each and every one of their newly transformed imagery. Some warriors feeling overly invincible, chose to run ram-like into each other, butting heads or bouncing chest to chest off each other and laughing heartily.
Then all simultaneously let out a huge roaring cackle and laughed menacingly while swigging bloodwine goblets passed out by enslaved zombies as they cheered Lord Darkstar, for he was delivering all that he had promised. A new home, a new structure and the means to become the greatest clan of evil the realms had ever seen! They applauded him as he grabbed the edge of his cloak and turned on his heels in a swirling motion, closely followed by Commodores Kurgan and Orin to head towards the Grand Hall.

Captain Duragon ordered everyones dismissal to the reception awaiting them. A new day was endarkening. Only in the land of the undead does it seem fitting they can they can turn the ultimate passing into a positive notion...and a warning of impending DOOM for all outside the compound.

Stagnation...

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.

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.

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"

In preparation for glory.

"Aren't you done yet?" D'Sar inquired of Alfred as he fidgeted in his new ceremonial Infernal Order Commodore's uniform. Alfred, struggled with pins and needles, trying to make final alterations.
"There's ample time until tomorrow, my Lord. Your uniform, I promise, will be perfect!" said the struggling butler.
Darkstar snorted in nervous angst. He's a perfectionist whose vanity craves every t crossed to show that all things in the public eye are beyond the scope of mortal imagination.

"I'm most excited to finally announce which mortal shall lead them into glory! A field Commander to wear our highest rank of Commodore will be gloriously chosen to crush our enemies!" he blurted in his usual pomp and circumstance. Alfred rolled his eyes as he'd heard speeches like time and time again. It's almost tedious in a way, he bemused, yet he understands how necessary this was when it comes to lording over the brood as deity.

"You're pleased with the return of the faithful, aren't you, sir?" Alfred chimed in.

"How could I not be? Besides Kurgan, Orin, Volrath, Vlasco and the rest, the return of Captain Dew makes me ecstatic! All these former glorious, seasoned warriors have finally seen their way home! Already there's a shudder rumbling through the realms! They're beginning to cleave through the other clans like a scythe through so much wheat! O what a ceremony this will be!" he rambled. All the while he was being prepped from fit to finish. It would be a beautiful ceremony.

IRL/OOC:Stay tuned for the actual ceremony in "Of Skulls and crossed bones... One shall lead them" to be posted to the "Infernal Order of D'Sar" clan blog on your local blog channels. Click here and Scroll down to "Of Skulls and crossed bones... One shall lead them".

Darkness ...gets stronger.

"I couldn't be more pleased..." the Darklord began to muse to his manservant Alfred. "The Order is growing stronger. After absorbing Duragon, the former leader of the Silent Ravens, Captain Kurgans return and now Captain Orin has returned after all these years. Do you know how splendid that is?"

Alfred could see the excitement in D'Sar's eyes. It had been a long time coming since the D'Sari ruled the realms of Kjeldoran as the evil of the land. Now the time was returning. The snowball has begun to fall downward. The bloodfever will begin again. The D'Sarian legend is a fire soon to blaze to engulf the realms.

It's only just begun. Darkstar knows this feeling. He smells the blood in the water. He sets his targets and plans his future conquests. His sites are set on the Crusaders as they have claimed him as their enemy since the return of Navarre from his outer dimensional imprisonment. It ssems the bird still holds a bit of a grudge. The Stygian Temple is on his list because of the former traitorous clanmates now fighting against the D'Sari. Then there's the Ninth Circle. They annoy him simply because they worship some unknown diety of evil they call "Satan". And lest we forget the battle with the goodlings of the realms.

So many enemies...So little time. War like this could spark armaggedon. Simply because they don't see the glory and goals of the D'Sarian brood. But the battle for supremacy has just begun.. Lying in wait this lion sleeps tonight.

"I'm off to meet with Orin. He needs to be briefed. The Squadron Sinister will be reborn once again, stronger than before. The final strike will be a glorious one...culminating to the final clash of the titans... That tin plated tirant, Ahriman!"

D'Sar was still bitter about the succession of the Dark Liege. Now he just saunters off to meet with his new and renewed D'Sari. The game is afoot.

"Dear Diary....Dear Diary... what a day today..."

"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.

Passion burns hot ...do annoying birds?

Packing can be such an annoyance. "DAMNIT Alfred! Why did you have to change on me?" ,thought D'Sar to himself as he began the mundane task of trying to assemble the luggage. The innkeepers daughter walked by the open door. She was elated that an Immortal was actually staying in their little bed and breakfast. She knew they were checking out, so he decided to be especially alluring that day. She was red haired, not typical of the women that D'Sar enjoys, with crystal blue eyes. Her skin was fair and covered in a light powder make-up. Lips where painted darker than the usual blood red that most parlor harlots would have. Her body was neatly tucked into a scarlet corset covered by a cropped black jacket and long black skirt, trimmed at the hem with red to match the corset. She wore the daintiest little black ankle boots which made an interesting clip clop on the hardwood floors. He hair was tied in a bun with a wisp out of each side behind her ears. D'Sar looked into her eyes as she entered. Nearly starstruck, her big blue eyes melted looking into his.

She offered her help in packing. "Milord, you look practically lost, doing things like this." she giggled. She bent down to pick up something D'Sar had dropped while packing. D'Sar narrowed his eye as he stared at her rump, getting lost in a debaucherous thought. He stepped towards her and leaned over. He reached for her, slightly from behind and touched her. She gasped in a startled breath as she stood up quickly, backing into the Darklords arms. She giggles a moment, flustered and flushed like a schoolgirl. She leaned her head back on his chest and looked up at him while he sniffed her hair. "You're not going to BITE me, are you milord?" she said batting her eyes in a coy fashion and her neck bent sideways as if to offer herself up to some wild fantasy.

D'Sar stared down at the pulsating throbbing jugular and thought a moment. In fact he thought several moments while he pondered his situation. With a greedy look on his face. Leering like a filthy pervert he thought : "Should I a) drain her then resume packing, b) get HER to finish packing and THEN drain her, c) turn her so this fine creature may travel the realms forever a companion, d) make LOVE to her, get her to pack the bags then drain her..." His mind was flashing through the possibilities as he stroked her fair neck...then he heard it.

In the window, the flutter of wings may not have caught his attention, but the sound of a hawk practically clearing it's throat as if to say "AHEM!" did. It seems Norlondar was calling as the herald to the Kitten Goddess herself, Rutger appeared.

"Blast! What IS it bird? Can't you see I'm bloody busy!?!?" He glared at the hawk.

It seemed the bird had important pressing news of Kjeldoran. "Sorry, m'dear..." says the gallant Dark Knight as he kisses her hand, "Duty calls...if you'd be a dear and continue with the packing..." So suave is he, he thinks to himself as he struts towards the birdie in the window. How boorish is he, thinks the bird as he rolls his eyes. There is no love lost between these two. The conversation would seem almost one sided to an outsider as D'Sar converses with this vox-less bird.

"So, what's so ruddy urgent, eh?" he blares. The bird looks into his eyes.
"A meeting of all immortals of Kjeldoran?" he said.
" The clans...the world itself is changing?"
"How soon do I need to ...uh...er..be there?" he says staring back at the scarlet haired helper he's acquired.
The bird shrieked a loud hawks shriek, glared again in anger and took flight.

"I guess that means we must be away in moments." he said to himself. "ALFRED!" He shouted to the next room, " Be ready in 15 minutes or less!" Then he muttered, "not like you'll bloody well be coherent enough to understand me..."

And with that, thus ended what might have been a most lustfully amusing evening.

Forsooth, the soothsayer and the man bat, long in the tooth.

Darkstar sat alone in his room at an inn, far from Kjeldoran. Alfred, his faithful butler, turned soothsayer, laid in a bed in the next room while D'Sar wrote his personal memoirs.

"I had taken a sabbatical with the Oracle, Alfred. I was trying to understand what had happened. On occasion, he'd tell me of things happening in the realms while we traveled...though interesting to hear, I was not that concerned.

I'm sitting at a desk in a quaint little inn. All I want is help for my dear friend. I want my old Alfred back...not this...fortune cookie with a mustache.
I can't take his fits of riddles anymore. It seems...."

Darkstar heard a sound in the other room and stopped writing. It was more than a moan. He had heard these before. It was the sound of Alfred going into one of his mystical spells. He rolled his eyes for a moment then went to him.

"What is it, old chum? What do you see this time?" said the man bat.

The oracle passed out...again.

"Alfred!! ALFRED!!!" The darklord shouted. "DAMN! He did it again. Another spout of nonsense and then he passes out."

The Lord of the Undead sits and thinks to himself. He ponders that it may be time to try to return to see if what Alfred had been spouting was true. Darkstar begins to snicker at some of the silly things Alfred was saying. "Hounds that snarl and speak in odd....OH NO! Not HERE!!!" He gasps. He narrows his eyes and thinks of what his people in his homeland are fighting. "...lycans. Kjeldoran is being overrun by bloody lycanthropes!" he exclaimed. "No time to lose, nor time for travel. Time to prepare Alfred for a little interdimensional god-travel....only...if there have been changes in the dimensional frequencies...Do we dare we try this?" He ponders to himself, "...just what could happen? Then again, with interdimensional misalignment, what's the worse that could happen? Alfred couldn't GET anymore insane. We'll just have to risk it. The part I regret most about travelling incognito these days is having to pack my own bags...."

The next few days are going to prove to be quite interesting.

And yet, the blind may see far more than we....

D'Sar walked throughout the compound. He was debating his time in the Tower. He walked past troops who were marching and practicing hand to hand combat. He sauntered by the mess hall, the barracks, and so forth. He was wondering what he was really doing here.

"This is not my home." he thought to himself. "This is merely borrowed space. To what end do I keep on here? The Tower are good warriors, yet there are so few these days to combat the uprising clans. Now the Dead Sea Pirates have gained strength. Everyday, there's a never ending battle to gain a foothold on both the realms and the lead as greatest clan of all evil... Why do I bother? Tower was never meant for me. It was something of wonderment when it was filled with what it was meant for...Sorcerers. The Tower of HIGH SORCERY. Now I've filled it with Vampires and Heucevas and Demons and all sorts of undead things. Where is the honour in that?", he queried of himself as he walked to the infirmary to see Alfred. His condition had worsened a bit. He was more withdrawn and silent than before. Only, at certain times, his mind reaches out to touch someone elses.

Darkstar pondered on, as he traversed past the infirmary, still contemplating what should be done to improve situations. "It wasn't but a short time ago that we were the kings of all we surveyed. Yet now after a scant few years and the loss of command rank officers like Keethrax, Nemesis, Orin, Dew, Porthios and the like, we're just not what we used to be. Age, foolishness or death took it's toll on them and now they are gone. What can be done now?" he mused.

"Perhaps you should call it a day, sir, and cut your losses...", called out a voice in his mind.

"Alfred?" Darkstar blurted into the air. No one was present to answer his query. "Alfred, is that you?" He asked.

"Yes sire... It seems my telepathy has increased exponentially. I no longer transmit mere images, but now entire sentences and thought pattern process'..." Alfred etherealy responded. "You needn't bother speaking your words... I can hear the thoughts you deem listenable."

Darkstar was in shock by the improvement in Alfreds abilities...but at what cost?

"Well Master D'Sar, if you must know...I can see all in the ethereal metaphysical world...but not the physical. Unfortunately, I have been rendered....quite blind."

"Alfred, old chum... How could I have let such fates befall you? I am responsible for ALL under my leatherish wing... Yet I have failed you... And the Tower." thought D'Sar, sullenly. "This can go on now further."

"Wait M'Lord... Don't beat yourself over this....times change. Before you do anything brash... I sense an ebbing in the Dark Force. There is a clan of the realms with no direction, ever since you were in that scuffle with its patron,and it needs guidance.

Establish a relationship with their mortal leader, Duragon. Make sure you discuss this with your Captains first. As it would seem, General, the Dark Alliance is on the verge of civil war.

Alfred lectured as a father figure would... Only he seemed even more wise than before. This was no mere educated gentlemans gentleman anymore. He was much more than that. Almost an soothsayer.

" You are having issues with your allies, The Hellfire clan." Alfred continued. "The Obsidian Order plagues both such clans. The Dead Sea Pirates have grown in ranks and now threaten to bring more chaos than the near defunct Chaotic Warriors did. Let alone those upstarts of good, the Brethren of the Keen Strike who seems to have picked up the baton where the Master's of Magic had dropped it."

Alfred, physically seemed to be in a trance as the Lord of the Dark Manor finally strolled into sickbay to be at his bedside. The more he transmitted his thoughts to Darkstar, the colder the room became. The candles within began to blow violently in the wind. Alfreds body began to slowly rise above the bed. Outside the windows, the skies began to darken and the winds began to blow. Debris from the outside blew in swirls. Alfred...was evidently NOT the same.

" I sense major changes to come in the future of the realms. I cannot be sure how soon...but they are coming.

I see Clans removed from existence. Warriors lost in a riptide effect, transformed into nothingness. Mortal souls ripped from their fleshling shells. Children slaughtered for no cause at. ALL of them, whether they be good or evil."

Suddenly the light of the outside world returned, the winds died and the skies calmed as Alfred dropped back onto the bed. He sprange up and staring blankly into space with his blind eyes, he clutched D'Sars cape and with a tear in his eye, gasped the only words he would ever speak again:

"I SEE THE END OF US ALL!"

Alfred collapsed back onto the bed and grew silent. Exhausted, he passed out.

Darkstar stared at him dumbfounded. He knew not whether what Alfred had transformed into was either good or not. One thing was for sure... D'Sar was going to have to find a new man-servant. As it would seem...an Oracle was born.

The gentlemans gentleman.

Anthraxia, demon pixie of the brood, was a creation of Darkstars, like the Governess and Gothrax. She flitted into the throneroom where D'Sar sat in conference with Alfred. They had tried in vain to debrief him after his kidnapping, yet he wouldn't respond. He has said nary a word since his return. He simply sits and rocks, with a blank look in his face. D'Sar believed that talking to this catatonic man-servant might jar him back into reality eventually. It's as if Alfred was in a walking coma.

As the darklord was trying to tell him of what had transgressed, the pixie landed on the table between them. She sat down on a bread roll, crossed her legs over each other,put her head in her hands and listened to D'Sar speak. She loved the sound of his voice. So soothing yet sinister. Like the calm peaceful sound of death.

Darkstar nodded at her, gave the pixie a wry smile of hello and continued with his story on the outcome of the slave auction. "...so there's the rub, old chum. I had been enslaved to Kioska for the past few days after she activated her voucher. Save for her yelling "DIAPER CHANGER" as I traversed the streets, never did she 'command' me to come to her! I, as a god of evil, would never be so foolish to volunteer myself. She 'owned' me, yet did nothing with me! That's the same as owning a farm, with great crop expectations, yet never tilling the soil!! Muwahahahahaaaa!" bellowed the Darklord...yet only he and Anthraxia were laughing. Alfred sat still, with his catatonic look afixed firmly to face. Not a muscle moved as he stared blankly into space with a small spot of drool from the corner of his lips.

"Was I so intimidating that the mouth that roared has been rendered mute in my presence?" he chortled. "And in all this time, the clocked ticked on her voucher! Tick tock tock tock! All she had to do was pray to me! I would have heard her 'commands'. Aaahhh....what fools these mortals be. I thought she had bigger stones than that!"

Anthraxia, who despised the Misfits Hideout clan, found the whole story incredibly funny, laughed so hard that she and fell off her roll and into the butter bowl! Alfred's eyes darted to her as she fell...and for a brief moment, the corners of his mouth looked to almost crack a smirk. "PROGRESS", thought D'Sar. That's all he desired was progress. Not to throw off the rythm, he simply recorded the event in his mind.

Anthraxia, mildly embarrassed, wiped herself off with a napkin so large it could be her bed sheet. Funny how such a tiny female pixie could probably be the most powerful creation in Darkstar's arsenal of evil.

A slave girl changed the tainted butter bowl.

"So tiny and wee, yet still I'm clumsy!" She giggled in her usual rhyme.
"Oh Alfred, fine man, we try as we can! We wish ye could hear how ye bring us fear! Oh please, for us change and stop being strange!"

Alfred stayed still. He was practically unreachable.

"I suppose that's enough for you today, old chum. Off to bed with you."
said Darkstar as he clapped his hands and Alfreds caretakers came to take him back to his room. They placed his blanket about his shoulders, made sure his slippers were steadfastly secured and walked him slowly up the stairs.

A door knocker announced someone at the doors. "Come!" shouted Darkstar, sternly. Captain Garret entered the chamber, and saluted to Darkstar. "My Liege, two of the new regiment are here. Allow me to introduce you to Lotharius and Torak."

They both bowed to the Darklord, standing in Tower formal dress. Crisp new uniforms, nicely pressed, they stood at attention. He looked at them there, standing proud. Pride is what D'Sar loves. "Torak...you are a defector from the Circle of Peace, are you not?" Torak bowed then snapped back to attention and exclaimed, "Yes SIR!"

D'Sar raised an eyebrow. So many years he had tormented the "Peas" as he liked to jest, that he wondered the sincerity of this new warrior. What really caused this bastion of peace to swear himself to the darkside?
"You do understand, at any given moment, your allegiance may be tested, due only to the fact of your past history?"

Torak nodded in a sage manner. He understands the Dark Lords apprehension. This was expected when he came aboard. The path from light to endarkenment is never an easy one.

"Well...you both look like fine strapping warriors. Sit, all of you. Have a drink with me to toast your entrance into the brood." said the grinning aristobat.

With that, they sat... And D'Sar told them the tales of the days when the Tower was at it's finest. Darkstar was a captivating orator. Anthraxia lounged on a pile of soft linen napkins and listened attentively, drinking in his dreamy voice as he lamented the past glory, and discussed ways to blaze a new road to dominance once again.

For better? Or for worse?

D'Sar returned from the auction. He had actually walked back to the Tower. He walked because he wanted a closer look at the incredibly large monolith that recently appeared on the outskirts of Kjeldoran. It seemed to throb with a mysterious hum. However, he wasn't seeking it's dark mystery yet. Too many things were on his mind as it was.

He entered the Tower and went up to Alfred's room. The lights were off and the smell was putrid. Poking his head in, he peered inside. "Alfred?" He said. "Are you there old chum?" His bat hearing detected breathing and mild sobbing. Darkstar lit a candle and saw a figure in side. It was Alfred , sitting in a corner on the floor. His remaining hair on his balding head was disheveled. Stuck to his head were deer antlers affixed with some sort of tree sap and partly ripping the skin from his forehead. He was smeared with fecal matter and he smelled horrid.

"Bastards! What did they DO to you, old friend?" He queried. "I need attendance here!!!" he shouted to his slave girls. "Clean him up, and take him to the illness bays. Get him checked out at once!" He ordered. "It will be alright, old chum. It's my turn to take care of you now."

Alfred wouldn't speak a word. He seemed traumatized by the whole ordeal.Slaves lit the candles of the room. Alfred was in rags which seemed to be his former formal wear now tattered nearly beyond recognition.

D'Sar followed the slave girls into Alfred's bath to supervise. Great care was to be taken to restore him back to normal.

"Lord D'Sar..." a slave girl said as she bowed with her eyes lowered to the floor. Slaves were not permitted to look directly into the eyes of their masters. "Captain Garrett wishes to see you."

"Hmmm... Handle this. I shall return." he replied. Concentrating a moment, he folded time and space and teleported away to Captain Garrett. The Captain was in the courtyard where they were having drills. He bowed deeply as D'Sar arrived in a blast of smoke. "Report." D'Sar barked, still annoyed about Alfred.

"Milord... You need to see something. Please follow me." the officer replied.

They walked to the battle practice arena where the Dark Governess was standing. She had an odd frown on her face. "If you would do the honors, General...there's something you need to see."

Maddened spar demons flew from a portal of hell opened up with an incantation uttered from the lips of the Undead Lord. With a swipe of a blade, a lash of a whip, or a stomp of her massive boots they could easily be dispatched by the giant woman. Only this time was different. As she raised her butterfly swords to attack, they mystically turned into knitting needles and her whip transformed into a spool of yarn with which she would begrudgingly sit down on the ground and begin KNITTING!

The look of shock and horror on Darkstar's face was priceless for those who might be peering through scrying pools. The Governess simply shrugged and kept knitting. Her giant eyes welled up a little. She enjoyed battle. One of her most enjoyable past times was a good scrap. Now she was mystically forced to sit idle and knit.

"How is this...?" Darkstar began. Then he stopped. "Methinks the gods are having a laugh at my expense. Perhaps it is the Trickster. I have no idea. Not that I needed another problem on my plate."

Darkstar took a mighty leap into the air and landed on the shoulder of the giantess. Whispering in her ear, he said it simply in assurance..."Don't worry Governess. I'm sure this will pass. Possibly some silly Norlondarian penalty for battling a god. We'll get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, knit yourself a nice dress."

Jumping down, cape unfurled behind him, Darkstar slammed into the ground, feet first and knuckled fist to the cracked ground. Lifting his head towards Garrett, he said simply, "Fortify" in a snarl.

Garrett raised an eyebrow. "Pardon me, Lord?"

" With the threat of near civil war with Hellfire, I need things to change. How are we with new recruits?" asked the Dark General.

"Our newest son of darkness, Lotharius is doing rather well in the new classes. He's almost up to full capacity in his training. He should do rather well. He heralds from a long line of warriors."

"Far too many things to do to put this place in order. Garrett, you're in command. I must check on Kurgan's progress, Alfred's progress, surmise the problematic enchantment of the Governess and figure out whether we are at war with our allies." he said somberly. "I need a vacation" he muttered, shaking his head and rubbing his temples.

Darkstar turned and walked to the Tower. Garrett saluted, yet he didn't think his Lord was paying attention. All he could hear was his god muttering like a madman to himself.

Caveat emptor: The Slave Auction

The walls of the Tavern were dimly lit with candles.
One of the D'Sarian Knights, that were to be ceremonial guards for Darkstar when the auction started, sought an audience with the Lord of darkness.
"Sire, if I may be so bold?" The mystic warrior began, " If all this treachery is going on...why are you wasting time at this auction?"

D'Sar blinked a moment, then patted the cheek of the Knight. "Because, my honorable warrior... As ever, I have a plan. And I would advise you never to dispute my actions again."
Darkstars eyes grew glowing red with that statement. Then he smiled in a mocking fashion, however annoyed he may have been at the question the officer was so improper to ask.

The bastion of the bats decided to become unto shadow and disappear into the darkness within, undetected for the moment as he walked into the Tavern and saw many a mortal milling about. He saw other gods in the transparent etherworld, cloaked from mortal eyes in their plane of ectoplasmic existence... for the moment. The auction was about to come under way. He saw the slavery vouchers at a guarded table. He sauntered over and stared at them... The name he was looking for was there. "Splendid" was his exclamation as he squinted his eyes. "I will enjoy this... And buy a few for spare. I see, Crimson, husband of Kioska is for sale along with herself. I think I would have more fun debasing her husband in front of her, and her newborn than owning she, herself..." He chortled.

He tipped his hat to the other gods of the nether realms, then sat with them, wary of Ahriman, the Dark Liege, unknowing if he knew of the recent events between the allied clans. Whom to trust was now the issue. He made small talk with them, inquiring upon the mysterious huge black monolith that had recently appeared in Kjeldoran.

When the auction started, all the immortals of the worlds came into view, stepping out of the nether-mist.
Bidding was slow at first but by nights end, D'Sar, in a bidding war with the kitten goddess, won his prize. Ihsahn a.k.a. Squiggy was his property now. His glee was silent, but inwardly ecstatic! He had also aquired Ezekiel and Crimson as desired. The purchase of Crimson was simply for the joy of torturing the Misfit demon-cat by owning her husband. "Perhaps I'll order the Crimson dragon to eat his own newborn child..." he chuckled and bemused in one of his twisted thoughts of evil.

The oddest twists of the eve, were the charity event sales. Immortals of the realms were up for sale. To own an immortal for a day was a dream for many mortals. Of course, the mortal was limited in what they were allowed to order this "slave" to do, as in ordering a god to slay an enemy clan or wanton destruction of a village, but to own a god-servant for a day was a once in a lifetime chance for greatness in the realms. All the proceeds went to help the realms orphans.

As the voucher for the Lord of the Undead went into bidding, he chided in jest for mortals not to buy him as he was a "terrible window washer" and that he'd "burn your breakfast!" Ever the showman is he. Not often does evil allow laughter. Yet in Darkstar's case, he enjoyed humour as long as it was dark.

The bidding was over and the winner was sauntering up to get the prize Darkstar Slave Voucher. Now this was irony at its best, as the strife between Kioska and her Misfits Hideout Clan and Darkstar would come to a head. For you see...as Darkstar had purchased the husband, the wife had purchased the purchaser! The conundrum in itself is odd enough to boggle the mind.

Darkstar pondered that for a moment, yet he had more pressing issues. He wanted to deal with his plan for the safe return of Alfred, his faithful yet kidnapped butler which Kali had him kept prisoner serving the vile disgusting Den of Iniquity clan. The debasement was far more than a man of his breeding could possibly handle.

D'Sar walked over to "Squiggy", his new aquisition, gave him a ridiculously silly looking large red bow to wear around his neck and commanded him to don it. He then ordered him to go and kneel before the kitten goddess. Sauntering over to Kali, he grinned wryly. "A gift for you...use him in good health...under one condition... Return my gentlemans gentleman to me if you please..."

She looked puzzled for a moment. Then waved her hand for one of her priests who produced an orb of allsight. Within it was an image of Alfred, with deer antlers rosined to his forehead, wearing tattered clothes and covered in a foriegn brown matter, holding his nose and stumbling into the gates of the Tower and being recieved by Tower gatekeepers.

Evidently, he was already in the process of being freed. "Hmmph!" thought D'Sar, " what a waste of 100,000 platinum." He nodded at the panel of gods, left his slave with Kali, and left with great anxious haste to see his long lost, trusted confidente.

The next few days should prove quite ...amusing.

"BRING OUT YOUR DEAD!"

27 hours later, while Darkstar walked the grounds to inspect the repairs, a frantic Knight of the brood approached him in a fervor.

"My Lord!" the Towerian knight said as he bowed, there's been a development. Captain Kurgan was attacked. He lays nearly dying, if not dead already, in an alley in Midtown Kjeldoran!"

"What IS it with alleys in Kjeldoran these days?" D'Sar thought to himself. "Where is he? Bring him to me!"

"Milord, I don't think he has much time. You may have to get in your good-byes in the alley", the honorable bastion of the Tower implored.

"You speak nonsense, warrior. He will NOT reach unlife on MY watch!" glared Darkstar.

The Darklord homed in on the psionic mental patterns of the Kurgan whose unlife force was waning away. He then commanded dark sorcerers to cast a spell of transportation. A fire and brimstone explosion appeared before him as a fading Kurgan layed at his feet, a broken skeleton, black rotted marrow type goo oozing from his broken bones. The concerened General knelt down to speak to the fallen Captain. "What happened there, old chum?" he queried.

Kurgan choked up a bit of black goo and grabbed at Darkstar's robe and whispered two words. The skeleton coughed, "Helllll....fiirrrrre...." as he slumped back. Kurgan was gone... Or was he? The wounds were critically severe. There was quite a bit of damage.

D'Sar grimly lifted his faithful officer and closed his eyes. The Tower Protectors there on the scene keeping watch, shielded their eye's from the blast of imploding smoke as the two disappeared into nothingness.

The dark duo, with a cloud of black smoke, reappeared moments later in the Creation Station, where most of Darkstar's most heinous creatures are brought to life. It was the birthplace for the likes of Gothrax, Anthraxia and the Dark Governess. The smoke cleared from their arrival as D'Sar, mildly drained from teleporting so far with a passenger, barked at his sorcerous lords. "Attend me! The Captain needs your aid! He has scant seconds on this plain!"

Together they stood around Kurgan on the slab that many have become animated on. This was the same slab Kurgan was resurrected on once already. For this to happen again, one would not think at all possible.

Darkstar stood upon the ceremonial symbol of darkness and began an impromptu incantation.:

"Kali, child of Norlondar, Daughter of Morakai, Goddess of all that is these realms... Here my plea... " The Darklord began to pray. "Your favourite soldier of darkness, Kurgan, has fallen to treachery and betrayal. In the name of balance and Morakai I beseech thee to grant me the powers of Morakai to restore unlife once again as you have in Kurgans case before!"

The circle aound the sinister star on the floor that was the symbol of the D'Sari, glowed pink. The aura began to manifest itself into a humanoid form. All that could be discerned was cats eyes, pointed ears and a tail. The manifestation nodded at D'Sar and a bolt of energy shot from it's eyes. It was the blessings of Morakai. The demon lord of darkness took the energy into his chest as his eyes began to glow bright red. He then placed his hand upon the head of the Captain. The pink energy now faded to purple as Darkstar's hand glowed an erie blue, infusing Kurgan with the energies of unlife, boosted by Morakai's blessing of life itself. The Kurgan would return to battle again one day... Yet that day would not be today.

Slightly weary from the energy transfer, his hair disheveled and clothes distraught and soiled from dealing with the oozing skeleton that is Captain Kurgan, he wiped his brow and motioned for the sorcerers to take over in the healing.

"Hmmmph... I've gotten quite a bit unkempt, haven't I?" Darkstar bemused of himself. " Alfred, I'll need to...damn." He stopped,shaking his head in frustration, realizing that in his distraction, he'd forgotten that Alfred was not there. He simply responded in reflex action. His trusted assistant is still a prisoner of Norlondar. "I have to get to the auction! It's the best plan to recover Alfred yet!" Leaning over Kurgan he whispered, "You're in capable hands now, old chum." Looking dead in the eyes of his head sorcerer and pointing to Kurgan, he made the threat: "He dies...?" then pointed to the priest, "YOU die."

Closing his eyes in transport again. The fire and brimstone about his body faded as he stepped from it's cloud and found himself transported to his chambers, as desired. A cloak and vestments were quickly pulled from his wardrobe by slave girls. Diligently he changed for the auction event and dispensed with the pleasantries of grand entrances in horse driven carriages, especially what with this recent treacherous developement.

An incantation of interdimensional transport was tonights desired travel option. A red portal full of plasmic energy opened before him and he stepped through, sliding through the folds of space and time, to exit near the door of the Kjeldoran Tavern in the darkness.

The auction was almost ready to begin as D'Sar appeared just outside the doors. He found a pair of the Towers knights there to ceremoniously act as his body-guards. They had a worried look on their faces with concern for Kurgan. "All will be well with your commander. In the meantime...we are at yellow alert. It is suspected that the treaty of the Dark Alliance between Hellfire and ourselves has been broken. You will find Captain Garrett and alert him that he is now on full active status with double duty as his command partner has fallen. "

He began to turn into the tavern when he was stopped by his guards...a pressing question was on their minds...

The flown coop

Darkstar stood with a blank look on his face. He was in utter shock at what the Governess had done. She looked at him on the rooftop as he stared into one of her giant blue eyes and sighed. Still covered with grime and dust, she averted her eyes downward, sheepishly. "Forgive me milord...I have a problem with being entombed."

He blinked a moment and thought..."She's over 100 feet tall. What the bloody hell would she be afraid of entombing her?"

"Governess," he said, "don't act out of turn again. Is that understood? Had I needed your help, I would have asked for it.

"Yes milord." She pouted.

"Well I suppose, no harm, no...fowl" he chortled, then he stopped, while leaning down to look over the ledge of the rooftop. "Governess, are you standing on my prize black roses?"

He rolled his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry, My Lord..." she whispered. Slumping a moment, He took a deep breath, then turned on his heel to walk towards the roof door, shaking his head. Retracting his bat wings, the slurping sound of melding meat sloshed, then stopped as the limbs of flight ended into his body.

"Captains! Attend me!" the Dark Lord bellowed.

"Yes SIRE!" the heucevan hulk of a skeleton, Kurgan was first to snap to attention. He and a band of counter- strike knights were laying in wait on the roof top, in case they were summoned to retaliate.

" My friend..." said the hell-bat,turning in Kurgans direction, " I want YOU to go into town to the Market Square and seek out what information you can shake down on why there is so much trouble about. I want you to go in, with minimal arms and armor, with a ceremonial blade only, peace tied. There's enough Hellfire clannies about to keep you safe from worry of attack as our alliance will keep you safe from their advances and skirmishes between the Obsidian Order. I want you to appear as if the Tower and the Dark Alliance is so strong it could walk nearly naked through town. The primary objective is to find out what caused that blasted blackbird to attack us..." he mused. "Captain Garrett, your mission will be dispatching a clean up detail for the compound and replacing our slain members. Begin recruitment immediately."

"SIR! Yes SIR!!" Kurgan and Garrett bellowed as they snapped to attention and saluted.

"I'll be in my chambers...at the scrying pool...then I must peruse the purchase voucher list for the slave auction...dismissed." said the frazzled vampire as he didn't even salute back. He more or less just waved his hand half heartedly into the air as he turned his back and walked away. He'd had a rough day.

In the scrying room, D'Sar made his incantation and homed in on his where-bats that circled above the alleged landing area of the Raven god... Only, they didn't see anything. Save for newly crumpled, broken branches,an extra scattering of freshly fallen leaves and an occasional black feather. He rubbed his chin and raised his eyebrow... "Where the blazes IS that bird?" he thought to himself. "The Governess whip couldn't have sent him THAT far. I suppose he's had enough and will be done with it, as will I. I should hope the Silent Ravens Clan doesn't figure on tussling with the Dark Alliance out of some preposterous sense of vengeful balance... Ponderous...however..." he stopped and raised his eyebrows in a lifting of spirits and smirked, "I've a slave auction to plan a strategy for..." he muttered to himself as he sauntered off to a bath drawn by slave girls.

Meanwhile...Kurgan took the long walk into Kjeldoran alone. Pondering the past events still so fresh in his mind, he thought of how close he had become to the Dark Lord in his relationship to his god.*

Captain Garrett had barked his orders to many a slave and worker alike to get the grounds back to normal. The black rose bed was first on the list.

Back at the dark chambers of the god of darkness, Darkstar relaxed in a bath drawn of milk and rose petals to unwind and heal from the prior altercation. The milk would soften his hardened undead flesh as he was a vain sot.

His hair was washed by one slave girl and his shoulders massaged in tandem by another. The Dark Lord was one for pampering his stresses away. One slave girl, who could read, read the list of names of those to be auctioned that dark eve. She reached the S list in the alphabetical order and spoke the name "Squiggy" amongst others. Eyes lulled to a dull look by the pampering, they suddenly spring open! He sprang up and exclaimed! "Ihsahn!" he shouted.
Ihsahn, also known as "Squiggy" to his clanmates was an Obsidian Order officer that he realized was up for auction. "EUREKA!" he snapped as best his slogging milky fingers could. With a grin as wide as the sea he blurted, "Oh ALFRED, dear friend! You're coming HOME!!!"

It seems our milk covered bat has a plan...

*Editors note: Continue the Kurgan Journey into deception in the Blogs of Role-play blog : "Kurgans Journal" entry: "Dark days, in a Dark time"

* Editors note*:Those readers curious as to the final outcome of the battle with Navarre, click here: from the "Purrs of the Kitten Goddess Blog by Kali entry named: "Of Reunions, Battles, Birds, Bats & Banter"

Nights Swift Intruder Part III: Battle Royale Round II

D'Sar held his saber and began to swing it in an alternating figure eight fashion. The buzz of the crackling energy grew louder and softer depending on the way he juggled this searing blade of darkforce.
It was bravado time in his head. Time to posture himself and show his skill as a swordsman. He began near juggling the sword as he passed it from hand to hand, even lofting it in the air and catching it behind his back! Navarre stared intently, sizing up his foe. Hoping D'Sar would make a mistake with his show-off mentality, Navarre retracted his claws and said, "If weapons are what you wish to use, then here's one that you may peruse!" From the back of his wings off his side arm he pulled out a large curved sword fused of steel, diamond dust and mythril. With leather and and brass handle, it was fused together eons ago in the mystic caves of a time before Kjeldoran, it was one of his more prized possessions in his armory.

Preparing a defensive stance they both landed on the ground. Darkstar cracked his neck and began to charge. The first blow sparked as the energy blade crackled against Navarres sword. It bounced off as they both whirled around to have the blades meet again at hip height. Then they withdrew the dooming instruments to attack from the top. D'Sar went for the left shoulder and Navarre parried the attack. Swinging the weapon downward Navarre crossed to the waist to meet the lightning fast strike of the Darklord. Blow after blow was countered and parried. D'Sar raised his boot and kicked the bird square in the gut, knocking him to the ground on his hind quarters. Lunging into the air and into a somersault, Darkstar came down upon him, blade first... yet missed.

The blade went deep into the ground crackling with energy just missing Navarre's hip, slicing and burning through only mere fragments of clothing. Before Navarre could think to react save for raising his blade to slice the bats head, the smoke of brimstone engulfed his lungs and D'Sar had disappeared again.

Coughing the foul smelling smoke from his lungs, he spat out, "Leave the trickery for the Trickster, D'Sar, and perhaps your efforts will go very far!" said the feathered fowl.

Navarre stood up. He looked around and saw no one. Looking down at himself he saw nor felt any damage save for his belt was cut and had fallen to the ground about his feet.

Peering about he looked up to a castle wall and saw in the moonlight, the hellish creature that D'Sar was, perched high atop the tower. Wings opened in the wind, cape flowing freely against his wings of evil. Darkstar was perched, looming down and staring. Navarre noticed he was holding something in his hand that gleamed in the moonlight.

The bird gasped, then felt for his belt. The same belt that had fallen to the floor. The very same belt that had held his Gold Watch. "Bastard!", he muttered. "The watch will help you naught this day, for it is your heart I will filet!" he shouted in retort.

"Trickster..." D'Sar thought, "There's a name I've not heard in a while... I suppose the trickster, Coyote would be proud of that little maneuver...I must remind myself to look him up after I finish carving this bird for dinner..." he snickered to himself.

"If you thought that was amusing...I've so much more in store for you!" the man-bat yelled down as he pulled from his Insidious Cloak of Nightmares a wand, handcrafted of the most sinister materials. D'Sar had made this himself. Aiming upon the bird he fired a horrific dark bolt of a spell known as the Draconian Strike! It rained down towards the bird, yet not so fast his reflexes did not allow for him to react with a counter attack of the infamous "FINGER OF DEATH!" which met his spells blast in mid stream.
Navarre leapt to the air and once again spread his wings in flight up to the Dark Lord. Mystic bolts left his fingers and D'Sar dodged the blasts as he returned fire with his wand, missing each time. Just as D'Sar thought the birdman was dead in his sights, the wand ran out of charge as only seven shots are allowed. Navarre let loose a barrage upon the bat and struck him dead center, sending him sprawling across the roof top.

Navarre raised his blade up to prepare for a death strike.

Then it happened.

Holding his sword straight and to the right of his face, the bird averted his eyes to the reflection in the blade. It was big... It was bad...and it was quite angry. It was the Dark Governess.

Her whip came from almost nowhere and wrapped itself around the birds torso with deadly accuracy. The pain from the whips tail was excruciating without his Gold Watch to lessen the effects.

The wrapping was so tight it took no effort at all to whip his body, tiny in comparison, to her massive giant size, and fling him far from the battle area. Navarre flew without control over several miles from fight-point zero. The backlash of the giant whip sent him sailing so fast that it was not at all easy to control his spin, his apothem nor trajectory. Spiraling like a top off the table, he practically drilled his way through trees and brush to finally crash through the walls of a cave and slam into the inner rock wall, scattering loose feathers everywhere in a cloud and leaving an almost cartoonish impression of his body...

...and there he laid... In the bedrock ...barely breathing... bruised ... battered...and BURNING MAD.

"...cheater." muttered Navarre.
" The round is yours as we now see, yet don't count this bird out when we reach round three..."

* Editors note*:Concluded (as far as Darkstar is concerned) in the last entry here at the bottom of the blog page titled:"The "the Flown Coop"

Nights swift intruder part II: Clash of the Titans!

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.

Nights swift intruder.

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 stre