Dood

by Rhapsody FFN

This story is fully discontinued, and will receive absolutely no further updates to story or grammar/spelling. If you are interested in continuing this project, you can copy this as a template to work on a new one. Credit to myself is not necessary, as this is available for public use across the internet, as long as they are not competing against FanFiction.Net in any direct way.

This is a story of the Prinny.

I don't own Disgaea. If I did, I would give Mid-Boss a better role, Laharl would be the main character in every game, and Etna would be even scarier.

"What about us, dood?"

And Prinnies would be worked harder than ever.

"Tyrant!"

Ahem!

It was a dark, stormy night in the netherworld, and the overlord's castle was the center of quite a ruckus.The Prinnies were having a pub night.All the Prinnies-"That sounds nice, dood!"

...As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted, the Prinnies were having a get together in the netherpub. They gamble, converse, and trade together, once a week. But their favorite time is when they drink enough grog. Then they're ready to speak of their damnation. Their reason for their slavory. Their-"Come on dood! Get on with the story!"

And we begin. Get over here you little shit!*Crash, bang, boom*

Netherpub, SundayIn the pub, the Prinnies bustled, trading Hell for their stolen goods, drinking themselves silly at the bar, and speaking of their various sins in the human world.

"So that's when I slit his throat! He bled everywhere! The smell was putrid, dood!"

"And the kid wouldn't stop screaming, yet I wouldn't dare stop until I fucked him dead!"

"That's why, after losing everything, I pulled the trigger, not on another, but myself, dood."

The table had all kinds of sinners. Pedophiles, thieves, serial killers, life takers, cons, addicts, and more.

Real scum, trapped in body suits, until atonement. The worse the crime, the longer the time. Some Prinnies never even get the chance to be forgiven. They are known as True Prinnies. Their soul takes a permanent form, and then remains for all eternity.

The newest Prinny entered the pub, not expecting much. Damn he was wrong.

"Dood! Dood! Dood! Dood! Dood!" he tries to speak, but he's unable to yet. Like all Prinnies, it takes time to control the dood. He seeks out a table, andand slumps down. His brother peons look at him, eyes cold.

"Who are you?" speaks an aged Prinny, staring right into his soul. The young demon can only squeak out.

"S-S-Simon, d-dood!"