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// Darkness Rises 
// Story: Azure Flame 
// by Silver Page 
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	Evil stirred. It waited and grew, hidden from the eyes of the good and the sinless. Past the hot and windswept Badlands where the Changelings hid. Beyond the burning plains of the Sea of Flames where the Eternal Hoard of the Dragon’s lay. Bordered by the Foreboding Jungle, where nameless horrors with dark intellects and darker hungers crawled beneath the twisted branches. Here, in the poisoned, corpse choked crags of the Lost Lands, a great revolution was planned for the world.
The ground bled black tar-like ooze and the only life that could survive was vermin with incredible resourcefulness. Here and there, amidst the grim, grey landscape, toppled buildings stood, and bones littered their streets. Here, the fallen kingdom of the Diamond Dogs and their long dead foes, the Moles, had prospered. 
From this place the Diamond Dogs had fled after killing the land with their tainted and now forgotten Alchemy, and leaving the Moles to their fate. Those who had fled regressed, their trappings of civilization falling away as they were demeaned and segregated by the races of the North and East. What they were now, slavers and nomadic vagabonds, was a pale shadow of their former glory, which was little more than myth and legend to them.
But it was in this place of death and decay that new masters had taken up court. Here, in this place, where only those who were trusted and worthy could enter, change was brewing. Change that would liberate the world of its ignorance and bring an era of peace and freedom. Or so it was claimed…
Deep beneath the tortured earth of the Lost Lands, there was an abandoned city. Long ago built and inhabited by the now extinct Moles, the city was built to last, and it had. Now, though, the ruins had new inhabitants. However, it was not full of smiling citizens, but now occupied by a grim army. It was full of people from all races who clutched sharp jagged weapons and wore thick plates of armor. Diamond Dogs walked side by side with Minotaurs, who greeted and spoke with Griffons and Ponies as equals. They were an army united in one effort. 
Massive forges belched smoke into chimneys that spewed up onto the surface, and in them ore was smelted into weapons of war and tools of subjugation. Vast fields were trampled by countless feet as soldiers trained and drilled, moving in formations and practicing attack runs.
Warded buildings housed laboratories full of alchemic gear and solutions which produced vials of potent acid and poisons, as well as potions and unguents of healing. Barricaded structures held monstrosities of metal, wood, and stone; siege weapons and explosives to tear down walls and destroy puny flesh. 
But perhaps most disconcerting, to an intruder or spy, was the markets filled with all kinds of food, and the shops full of many goods. In stark contrast to the militaristic functions of the buildings and its people, there were pockets of joy and happiness. Families with children. Elderly individuals with cherished ones. Lovers of all species, untroubled by bigotry or racism, showing their affection. There was a peace of sorts here, mixed in with the imminent threat of war.
In the subterranean lair of the ruins that was the city of M’Ko, a war horn sounded. Three long blasts echoed through the chambers and paths. Slowly, the races began to move away from whatever they’d been doing, filing into the largest of the still intact buildings. Soon, thousands filled a large audience hall, once the throne room of the Mole King, but refurnished by new masters.
The room was dimly lit by a few dozen torches, the pale flames guttering in the darkness, casting harsh shadows upon the beings within. They all stood still and silent, waiting. Soon, drums began to beat. Slow and steady, like a heart. As the drums started, more torches burst to life at the far end of the chamber, illuminating a raised dais, where a throne had once stood. Now, though, it was bare save for four large, full body paintings on the wall. From left to right, the portraits were of a Diamond Dog, a Griffon, a Minotaur, and a Unicorn.
A sense of anticipation filled the waiting beings, and soon, in time to the drums, a hooded figure in dark robes stepped up onto the dais, in front of the left most painting. It struck the portrait of the Diamond Dog with a clawed and scaled fist.
“Praise him! The Martyr gave his life 18 years ago to collapse the personal gem mines of Viscount Howling who tortured his slaves with the lash and with death!” The figure’s voiced boomed out across the room, and he moved on to the next painting, striking it with his fist as well. The crowd began to stamp their feet in time with the drums.
“Praise her! The Martyr gave her life 9 years ago to destroy the Imperial Treasury building of the Griffon King who steals the hard work of his people!” He moved on, and the pounding of the drums increased in volume and tempo, and the audience picked up their own efforts. At the next painting, the fist struck it as well.
“Praise him! The Martyr gave his life 21 years ago to destroy the mansion of Baron Steel Horn and cripple the accursed noble who abused women with his status!” Now, the drums reached a crescendo, and the crowd was practically in a frenzy, the assembled beings growling, stomping, pounding, hating. The figure moved to the last portrait and turned to it, slamming both his fists onto the canvas. 
“Praise him! The Martyr gave his life 15 years ago to kill Prince Blue Wave and cripple Princess Golden Light, scions of the arrogant and false Goddess of the Sun!”
At this, the crowd went wild, and the drums boomed madly, like an out of control heart.
“No King! No Queen! No Lord! No Master! We will not be fooled again!” The roar shook the room, and beneath his hood, the figure gave a dark smile.
Darkness would rise, and he would lead his followers to a glorious future built on the bones of Martyrs, and paved by the corpses of their enemies. Darkness would Rise, and Tyranny would Fall.
“It finally begins,” the revolutionary whispered, unheard as his words were swallowed by the roars of his believers.