Bow to the Dark One
Greetings, unwitting pawns of the Dark One. Niltsiar (the goody goody two-shoes who isn't really Raistlin, of course) has handed me the reins of this week's editorial, which, of course, was all part of the Plan. The Dark One will be pleased. He spoke to me this afternoon when I ran over a possum in my black Dodge and muttered the words of Unholy Sacrifice.
The Dark One feels that now is the time for all his Plan to be revealed. So, let me, in His too-generous mercy, reveal to you the diabolical conspiracy and Plan in which all of you have taken part. Your shock and fear will please Him greatly.
Once upon a time, the Dark One (if you have to know his name, you might just like to rearrange the letters in "Santa," which is but one of his forms) thought of a new way of entering and gaining acceptance in the world. He formulated his Plan, laying it out over many years and into the new millenium. It was his most creative plan yet—not grandiose, but intriguing and stylish all the same. He had thought of a way of dividing and conquering fantasy readers.
His creation was undeniably seductive. A fictional evil character who was cold and heartless, yet sympathetic enough to lull readers into a false sense of his "inner goodness." He captured the hearts and imaginations of his readers and authors alike. They grew to love him, to follow him through all his trials and adventures, to clamor for his stories and stories of his children, , to worship his image, to buy all the products associated with him (including those evil "D&D games"), to play him, to dress like him, to become him. People started wishing they had a twin, that they had wracking coughs and magical powers, just like he did. I loved him too. But only I was able to see him for what he was, if only because of his mysterious yet overpowering charisma. But the signs were there: the black robes, his abnormal appearance, eyes that saw everything dying, his seductive evil, his mastery of magic and power, his challenge to the gods, and the hint of a black moon that only the truly evil can see. (I know I could always see it.)
I knew this was a call. I knew it was the Dark One Himself.
I offered myself to Him and became His servant. And my "handle" was adopted in tribute to him, and His true form. I did His work, and I know He rewarded me, because this all happened around the time my friends and I were high a lot and life was wonderful. My job was to make the fans and worshippers of his new form love him all the more. It was an easy one. Most of the time I accomplished it by impersonating him, sometimes badly, deliberately. It only increased the fervor of the fans as to the greatness of the real fictional character. Sometimes I worked in collaboration with His other servants. You might know them. One of them was a guy named Stig.
We worked the fans completely. Each of these marks started having their own image and vision of the true character, of his past, of his morality, of the "canonity" of the stories about him, of his stats and his power, of his status (living or dead), of his children (if he had any) and even of his sex and manliness. When they weren't fighting over what he was, they argued about what he could be. Well, readers, if you haven't put it together by now, the Dark One's Plan is coming together, and no one can stop it now. It's really quite clever that it's being called the "War of Souls." That's what it is, and there is no doubt who will win. Is the One True God him? Silly mortals. Do you really need to ask? Of course it is!
It will be in the next books that he will truly come into his own. The ball has been rolling now and gathering weight and speed. Nothing can stop it—it's all happening according to plan! When you open the next book about him and find out the Truth, it will be too late because your souls would have been lost to him. The pages will have you riveted, and in that state of helplessness, your souls will be ripped out and sped to the burning depths of Hell where you will suffer for all eternity.
Silly mortals. You are all so easy to deceive.
Because I am, after all, joking.
Mostly.
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