Phase I: World Domination

Baron Vladimir Harkonnen
Born 10,110, Died 10,193 - Commonly referred to as the Baron Harkonnen, his title is offically Siridar (planetary) Baron. Vladimir Harkonnen is the direct-line male descendant of the Bashar Abulurd Harkonnen who was banished for cowardice after the Battle of Corrin. The return of House Harkonnen to power is ascribed to adroit manipulation of the whale fur market and later consolidation with melange wealth from Arrakis. The Siridar Baron died on Arrakis during the Revolt. Title passed briefly to the na-Baron, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

I have discovered an interesting contest. Alderac Entertainment Group (AEG), publishers of the Spycraft RPG and CCG, will soon release Spycraft 2.0 at the end of July. One lucky person will recieve free copies of this new book, should they be selected as winners of this contest. This contest is hosted by the site Modus Operandi and supported by AEG. Contest details can be found here.

To enter this contest I would have to create a villainous mastermind and his evil organization. Oddly, I may be well-suited to this task. The criminal mastermind would need to "fit" into the flavor of the Spycraft CCG world, an adventurous option. As my mind begins to caress this creative task, I request that any readers feel free to post comments with suggestions on the nature of this villainy.

----ONE POSSIBLE IDEA

In waves of deafening volume, the chanting of 500 Brazillian aborigines reverberated against the walls of a dark, moist cavern. The hundreds of voices rising and falling gave a strange pulsating sense of life to the one-time quiet cave. The room had been recently modified to resembled the interior of a vaulted chapel, with primitive torches lining the walls, and a throne of brass and gold enshrined at one end. The room was thick with the sticky smell of humid body heat, as every individual suddenly grew silent and bowed himself towards the shrine... all except one.

Louis DeVoure slowly elevated himself from the glittering throne. He was dressed in vibrant robes of red and purple, and adorned with dozens of crafted trinkets made of bone and jade and ivory and obsidian. Standing erect upon the shrine he began to speak to the congregation in their native tongue. They knew him as Lord Vice. They remained silently captivated by his every word. He had saved them, bringing with him the fortunes and vengeance of their gods. He had built this temple for them, deep beneathe the ground.

In a display of violent anger, flames erupted around the throne and the congregation gasped in terror. Sparks and beams of light shot out from the throne. Drum music surounded 500 frightened natives, who knew nothing of the speakers that had been installed in the sides of the makeshift chapel. As the darkness and chaos increased, Lord Vice began to float above his throne, then with a single shout the room burst with light, and the cave was again quiet, excepting for the whimpers of the weak.

Now, between the many technologies employed by Louis DeVoure, there remained a few that were of a truly mystic origin -- the very core of his obsession. He had collected and studied the occult talismans of dozens of civilizations, but it was here, in the jungles of the Amazon that he had finally found first piece of an ancient puzzle: The Hollow Heart. This fist-sized statuette was made of rough-cut ruby, shaped like a heart, and endowed with mystic powers.

Three of the weak ones were beaconed to stand before the crowd.

"We have no place for weakness among us," cried Lord Vice in the aborigine tongue, "You will fall here, while we RISE TOGETHER!"

The weak one cowered, as Lord Vice raised his arm, revealing a long metal rod, with wires trailing into the throne behind him. He pressed the rod against the half-naked man standing next to him, who quickly went rigid as strands of electricity curled around him. The crowd remained silent has his form fell to the ground... smoking. And so it was with the other two.

"NOW! We shall join together! And we shall be embraced by THE GODS!"

At this, Lord Vice raised his arms together, holding the Hollow Heart high above his head. Wires trailed from the heart to his throne, and along the floor of the cave. 497 Brizillian aborigines each picked up a small metal ball with wires linking them to every other metal ball in the room, and each of them raised it high above their head. For a moment they felt a tickle of energy, and the room seemed to glow.

Lord Vice coked his head to look at the rat of a man who remained curled in the corner of the cave, and in English, said, "Do it now, Hoskins!" With that the fidgety lilttle man turned and threw a large switch.

For a moment the cave was once again filled with voices, shrill, uneven, and suprised, then in a moment the pulsating life was silent.

Lord Vice looked at the relic in his hands, apparently unaware of the 500 corpses lying at his feet. His eyes were wide with excitement, as he frantically caressed the heart-shaped artifact, disconnecting the wires. "It worked, Hoskins! I can FEEL them. Their strength is my strength. Their life... is MY life."

"Very good, my Lord," said Hoskins, stepping toward the glittering throne, fixing and gthering the components of their theatrical display.

"Hoskins, call for my private helicopter. THIS is only the beginning."