The Dark Saga 1: The Wolves are Gathering
Dookov Earl has wandered for many moons, seeking a place where he feels comfortable. He has met many like himself, wandering alone or in small groups, too few to effect their desire to wreak mischief, to spread malcontent, to put one over on the good guys.
His beard has grown grey with the years, but today he is drawn onwards by a power greater than himself, and he leaps from the living room carpet to the dining area linoleum with the energy of a younger man. A younger, evil man.
Before him stands the source of the magnetic power, drawing him forward. The Dark Castle, the Wolves' Den. Two axemen stand at the gates. Dookov approaches.
Axeman 1: Halt! Is it your desire to enter this castle?
Dookov: It is.
Axeman 2: Are you a miscreant, a wronger of rights, a befouler of maidens.
Dookov: I am.
Axeman 1: Do you loosen the tops of salt cellars in restaurants, and give only a small tip?
Dookov: I do.
Axeman 2: Finally, is it your intention to become the leader of this band of baddies?
Dookov: Naturally.
Axeman 1: You may enter.
Dookov passes through the portal of pain, where no klicky with a pure heart may enter. He hears the castle itself speak to him, through him.
Castle:
Dookov Earl, I have chosen you to lead this gang of unruly backstabbing bar-stewards. You must mold them into a team, and you must add to their number at every opportunity.
Out in the furthest regions of this apartment there are klickies with dark armour, with stubble, with cross eyebrows, with those stupid eyes that look to the right. They are twisted by the evil nature that Geobra has inflicted then with, and they yearn to cause mayhem.
The first task I appoint for you is this. Collect them. Collect them all!
