" To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;

To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;

To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;

To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates

From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;

Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;

This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be

Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;

This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory."

-Demogorgon, Prometheus Unbound by Percy Bysshe Shelly

"AH, CRAP! WHO ASKED DEMOGORGON THE PARADOX QUESTION?!" Kresk screamed out. He got up and ran over to the platform overlooking the main floor, the other demon lords following him. Raven snapped out of her daze of memory. She got up and, taking a spot next to Kresk, watched a frenzied mayhem unfold on the main floor. Demogorgon, THE Prince of All Demons, had two heads. This must be distinctly understood or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am about to tell you. You see both heads were absolutely and totally insane to a point that goes BEYOND the point of insanity. Nothing in any language can describe the sheer pandemonium that is Demogorgon's mind. Some wonder if this is perhaps not madness but in fact the default mindset of the King of Demons, a being so horribly old and powerful that its very name is taboo in most religions and that surely its primeval mind must work beyond the human scope. If so, then what it would be like insane is a horrible thought indeed, but back to the point. Both these heads, while equally crazy, have separate identities, and have one common goal; they want to be separate from each other. They want nothing more than to see each other dead. However, this is impossible, for each head is in fact an aspect of the other, and if one died, the other would surely perish. So they endure each other in an uneasy truce. But, that doesn't mean that they are immune to one childish trick; 'Which head is the leader?' Indeed, there was no answer since, as mentioned, both heads are aspects as each other. That doesn't mean they don't fight about it though. And such was the case now.

"I believe your culprit is that little blonde creature down there." Astaroth pointed out. A golden-haired, innocent looking succubus stood in front of the massive King of Demons, puzzled as to why the heads were arguing. "Astaroth, you need to get down there and reason with them before this gets ugly." Kresk begged. "Too little too late." Ipos sneered. Indeed the heads were already snapping at each other and screaming in Abyssal. Finally one head grabbed the other's neck and began to strangle. The monster fell down onto the main floor, crushing several dretches, and the blonde succubus ran to an entourage of her sisters surrounding Malcanthet. That was when Raven got her first good look at the Lord of the Tanar'ri. Its lower torso was twisting and serpentine, but its chest was strong and well built. In place of arms, two spike lined tentacles whipped about. What looked like two more tentacles emerged from the creature's lower back, but it was soon apparent that these were tails. Its legs were a cross between an eagle's and an iguana's, taloned and scaled. Its body was covered in manged fur caked with feces, mud, vomit and other disgusting substances. Patches of scales interrupted the fur, each scale a sickly green or purple, and cracked and warped. Two long necks erupted from a spot in between the shoulders on top of the chest, but the heads, the heads were inconsistent, shifting. One moment they were feral mandrills, the next, emaciated hyenas, then rabid baboons. Stranger forms emerged the more Raven watched. Soon they were pythons made out of white hair, deformed lions with one eye, skeletal unicorns with melted horns, maroon hippogriffs screaming parakeets, and still odder creatures Raven didn't recognize. And it wasn't just Demogorgon's heads changing now. Soon he had four tentacles, then one, then nine, and then five. He changed color quickly, like an octopus, shifting from dead gray to light black (You ask how it's possible? Demogorgon is all about impossibility) to fiery pink to navy blue to acid green. His fur fell off and scales, then feathers, then slime, then fur again. It (Demogorgon) started bleeding at the neck, first blood, then ichor, then frog eggs, then jelly, then chlorine gas that condensed into eyeballs.

The fight grew steadily worse, the heads clawing, biting, and unleashing flurries of breath weapons at each other. Some of the other demons, like Orcus and Pazuzu, laughed and sneered at their vicious opponent in such a childish act. Weaker demons cowered and feared that they may be the next to die in the grand melee. Still others just watched or shouted randomly at the pair in Abyssal. Either way, every demon was steering clear of the main floor. "Astaroth, do something! You're one of the only ones who can reason with them!"

"I'm not going down there! What do you take me for, one of your suicidal dretches?"

"Well someone's got to do something! It's literally crashing the party!"

"Send Soc. Graz'zt is going to kill him anyway. If Demogorgon kills him, Graz'zt blames Demogorgon and puts it on his many lists of slights. They fight each other, neither wins, and the natural order is restored."

"That plan's good, I just don't like the part where I die." Socothbenoth squeaked. "The lot of ya' shut up. Something's going down." Ipos growled. A silence had hit the room. The screams and jeers had stopped as a figure walked across the floor to the primordial titan. She was, simply but, beauty in the most corrupt sense of the word. She oozed sex appeal, and a scent as sweet as a rose followed her. Her dark hair was kept out of her shining red eyes by two curved horns, and she wore an elaborate head-dress as a crown. Her light-red strapless dress exposed her back, shoulders, and wings for all of creation to drool over. The dress itself was all at once rather modest yet supremely seductive, covering her body but showing her curvy figure by the light of the room. The dress didn't disguise the fact that she had a long, slender tail tipped with a poison spike. Her slender arms ended in delicate hands that climaxed in extravagantly long, almost talon-like nails. Malcanthet, Demon Queen of the Succubae, bent over Demogorgon, and moving her ruby, full lips, almost whispered out in a husky, wet voice filled with temptation, "Sweetheart, what is the matter?" Demogorgon's heads stopped fighting each other and stared up at Malcanthet. Each growled/hissed/mewed a response at Malcanthet. The seductress cooed something to the demon, and over the course of a few minutes, Demogorgon's body began to shift back to a more recognizable and distinct form. Then, Malcanthet, coldly and wickedly called out the blonde succubus that had started the entire mess. She crawled forward sheepishly, terrified of her mistress' wrath. Malcanthet hissed something at her that was definitely a death sentence. The succubae screamed and cried for mercy, pitifully begging for a scrap of compassion that had long ago disappeared. Malcanthet raised her hand and spread her fingers slightly. The succubus was thrown backwards into Jubilex, the Lord of Slime and Ooze. The Faceless Lord began to dissolve the succubus, who screamed even as the rest of her sank into the snot-colored oblivion. Malcanthet said one last thing to Demogorgon before she kissed each persona (which had now taken the form of long-haired cheetahs) on the forehead and scratched their chins. Malcanthet sauntered away into the shadows, and the content Demon King slithered back into a corner and purred like a kitten.

Raven finally asked," I'm sorry, what just happened?" Kresk explained, "THAT, was a demonstration of Abyssal politics, which is the closest thing we have to government. Let me explain. The voluptuous creature you saw talking to Demogorgon, the strongest demon in the Abyss and the self-proclaimed 'King' of Demons, was Malcanthet, Demon Queen of Succubae. Malcanthet is currently Demogorgon's consort, meaning Demogorgon is her sugar-daddy, or whatever you call it. It's part of how she's held her title for so long. Nobody questions your power when you're backed by the strongest demon in the Abyss. Almost everybody knows Malcanthet. Let's see... Uh, former consort, former consort, boy toy, mortal enemy, former consort and mortal enemy, and so forth and so forth."

"Oh." There was a moment of awkward silence before Raven asked Kresk, "When you say 'consort', you mean concu-"

"Yeah."

"So they've-"

"All the way."

"Her?"

"Yeah."

"With that?"

"That's the chant of it anyway. And between them they have produced horrors and monstrosities that should never have been born and shouldn't be named. We're talking monsters that can put the Echidnean brood (Chimera, Cerberus, Hydra, Ladon, Gryphon-Vultures, Nemean Lion, etc.) to shame. I saw one of their kids once, man. Ugh, I still have nightmares from where the thing tried to kill me. All those teeth...nothing in the multiverse should have that many teeth. Demogorgon aims for quality in its offspring, that's why it kills the weak ones off at birth. Or maybe it doesn't. It really doesn't pay attention to its numerous progeny that much. It's hard to tell what the Hells goes up on in those freakish minds. But Graz'zt, Graz'zt on the other hand aims for quantity. He's produced more cambions and alu-fiends than all the other demon lords combined."

"He must be very popular."

"Hardly. Practically everyone in the Abyss wants him dead. Demogorgon, Orcus, Pazuzu, Dagon, Malcanthet, Lolth. But he has some powerful backers though. Iggwilv the Witch Queen, who actually imprisoned him once, Pale Night, Baphomet. That doesn't change the fact though, he's hated, without a doubt. Cripes, even Apollyon sent some demons to kill him once, long, long ago." At that moment, the locust demons a table away turned their humanoid heads at Kresk, curling their scorpion tails and jittered a warning. Kresk snarled a retort, "Ah, pike it you rubes. I'll nick the lot of ya' if you don't just turn around right now." The locust demons veered away, but they each stared at Raven for a moment before going on with their 'conversation' of chirps and clicks. Raven felt her palms sweat. There just comes a bad feeling when herald-of-the-apocalypse demons take in interest in you on your pre-apocalyptic birthday. "Of course, APOLLYON (Kresk shouted this at the locust demons, sending a shudder of annoyance down their carapaces) wants everything completely and utterly destroyed. That's why he's the Angel of Destruction. That's why nobody, not even the other Demiurge, screw with him."

"Well why does everybody hate him?" Raven pried. "Lots of reasons. Depends on who you're asking really. Sometimes he's hated because he picks fights, like with Demogorgon. Graz'zt has the insane notion of toppling Demogorgon and taking the title of 'King of Demons'. He wants that because he thinks he can do the impossible. He thinks he can 'unite' the Abyss, and with that, he could conquer the multiverse. Of course, he fails to realize that this is impossible. Aside from all the philosophical problems with it, there's just the fact that, demons don't work well together. You see this, this whole night? Making sure these cutters didn't kill each other on the spot took, massive, MASSIVE, bribes. But back to the point. With everyone else, who knows? Like I said, it depends on who you ask."

"Oh." Raven contemplated the information she had just absorbed for a moment. She had to take it all in before her next question. "Kresk, what's a 'cambion' or 'alu-fiend'?"

"You." Kresk bluntly echoed. Raven was starting to get the meaning. Kresk continued. "More correctly, you're a cambion specifically. Your father was a demon and your mother was a human. An alu-fiend is the offspring of a female demon and a male human. While both terms are generally associated with demons, they're really umbrella terms, applying to half-devils, half-daemons, and even the rare half-demodand. Graz'zt is infamous, legendary even, for his voracious sexual appetite and sensual appeal. He has thousands, nay, millions of occults across the material plane, and every single one of them has a female member of some race hoping that the Dark Prince will come and 'bless' them. These 'gifts' often result in half-demons that wind up killing their mothers sooner or later. In fact-" Kresk circled Raven, cross-examining her features and analyzing his memories of her, from her affinity with shadow to her inherent spell casting abilities, "I think you might be one of his."

"WHAT?" Raven asked, her eyes widening. Kresk kept at the revelation, "Yeah, you might be one of his. I mean, you both got a thing for shadows, you move with his kind of grace, you do magic better than anyone I know did at their age. If I had to guess, I'd say Graz'zt was your father. Now, I've never heard of this 'Tri-gan' fellow-"

"Trigon."

"Whatever, but I do know Graz'zt usually shows up at witch's sabbaths and summonings and such. Like I said, result's usually a cambion. Your mom, I can figure out that she was in the occult. Did she ever really talk to you about your father?" Raven looked down. Her eyes dimmed for a moment, and she regressed into a sad, dour voice. "I never knew my mother that well. She watched over me every now and then while I still lived in Azarath, but I was mostly raised by the priests. I don't know what happened to her after I left." Kresk didn't pressure Raven for anymore information. He placed his massive, clawed hand on her shoulder and gave Raven his own sad smile before looking away into space and quietly muttering, just loud enough for Raven to hear, "At least you knew your mother. Mine died giving birth to me. Killed my father to. I can barely remember her, what her grave looks like sometimes, much less her name. I think it was Sarah. Might've been Rachel. Gods, I wish I could remember." Raven looked up at the ancient tanar, and saw that a single tear of blood was oozing down his face. She suddenly felt that she knew a little more about Kresk, that for the first time she had a small connecting point to him that didn't scare her a tiny bit. Kresk wiped away the tear on his sleeve. It barely showed against the red of his robes.

"Ah, but enough about that. This is night to be happy, not a night for some old demon to ramble on about something that happened to him a long time ago in a country far, far away." Raven marveled at how easily Kresk could shift his moods, how he could just drop one for another. One minute he was crying tears of blood, the next screaming war-cries of absolute hate, then all of the sudden he was happy (to an extent). "And still, ya' got hope. Cling to that. It's how Morpheus beat Lucifer in Infernum from what I hear. Before he passed away that is." Kresk was depressed again. "Ugh, I haven't been this down since Anung Un Rama ate pancakes. That was truly the Lower Plane's darkest hour in the last century. Our darkest hour indeed. But you need to cheer up. Your daddy might be in here tonight." Raven had almost forgotten about Graz'zt in her mourning. But she another question, "Kresk, if Graz'zt is my father, then what do I have to do with Trigon?"

"Absolutely nothing. He probably just happened to find out that you existed, and saw that you were the perfect opportunity to get what he wanted. He used you, kept the truth a secret. All any demon wants is more power for itself, and it'll use any means to get it."

"Does that mean I won't destroy the world?" Kresk started laughing and snorting again, "Yeah, sure kiddo. You won't cause the apocalypse! I can sleep easy knowing that." Kresk kept guffawing, despite Raven's unamused stare. "Ahh, armagedon. That's a hoot." Raven couldn't help but notice that the locust demons were staring at her once more. They looked away again, but she felt a shiver run down her spine. Kresk finally stopped laughing, "Thanks kid, that's the kind of mood-lifter I needed just then." Raven could care less right now about Kresk and his opinions and inside jokes. Trigon wasn't her father. She didn't have the slightest idea who Graz'zt was, but he wasn't Trigon. Did she actually know this? No. But she knew none the less. The world was safe. There would be no apocalypse, no day of fire, no Titan's Tower in ruins. The world would spin the way it always had. Everything was calm. Everything was safe. Everything was perfect. And for the first time all evening, Raven drank in the night, sipped the strange company around her. For the first time in a long time, Raven was truly, utterly, completely, happy. You must understand, I am not merely referring to some house-cat contentment or a slight euphoria, I'm talking about an Elysium joy so profound it's the stuff they write about in fairy tales, the stuff golden ages are made of. And Raven wondered to herself, she wondered if this was kind of high Starfire was on all the time.

"And speak of the Dark Prince, here he comes. Astaroth! Get the victim ready, if you please."

"As you like it." Astaroth replied. Socothbenoth, his once shining eyes now dull with fear and his donkey ears drooping in anticipation and horror, vainly pleaded with Astaroth in Abyssal (he didn't want Raven, who he knew as a lowly human, to hear a full fledged demon prince groveling), but to no avail. He tried turning into a snake, recognizable by its ears, and slithering for the vents, but Astaroth's dragon blocked him in time for Ipos to grab him. Ipos picked up the now humanoid Socothbenoth by the hair, who, this time, pleaded in English. "Come on Ipos! Have mercy on another demon prince!"

"Sorry, you asked for the bull, now here come the horns."

"What bull? What horns? I gave lip to Astaroth! Is that such a crime?"

"Apparently so. Here Diabolus." Ipos handed Socothbenoth to Astaroth by the hair. Astaroth, standing at full height lifted Socothbenoth off the ground, and placed him in a seat at the table. Graz'zt's entourage, still hiding the main demon, laughed and jeered at the weak demon prince who sat shivering with fear in the chair. Minotaur-like Baphomet snorted and growled, Nocticula chuckled softly, and a host of other demons all shapes and sizes were amused by the spectacle. "Where is he? Where is the worm?" a voice rang out from the crowd. It was he, Raven knew. It was her father.

There was something about this voice. It was filled with an undeniable power, a godliness that could only belong to a demiurge. And somewhere along the line, whether it be arrogance or pride, Raven knew that what made that voice powerful was in her voice as well. The crowd began to part. Raven heard heavy footsteps as something dark and tall made its way through the mob. Her heart began pounding like a jackhammer, she felt cold sweat on her forehead, and she felt dizzy with anticipation. Raven felt a little sympathy for poor, beautiful, doomed Socothbenoth. But he had dared to insult Astaroth.

He had dared to insult all demiurge.

He had dared to insult her father.

The forefront group parted to finally reveal the Dark Prince. No, this could not be. This magnificent creature couldn't be a demiurge. This creature was a god to be sure. Standing ten feet tall, above all the lesser demons around him, Graz'zt emanated an aura of sheer and awesome power. His smooth, glossy, ebony-black skin reflected the lights of the room, and his emerald eyes, emitted their own terrible luminance. Amid his dark, ruffled hair Raven spotted six small horns. His pointed ears perked every now and then at some comment from the gathering, and he snarled an insult, revealing his yellowed fangs. Punching a fist into his hand, Raven noticed that each hand bore six, slender fingers. She grabbed her own hand with the other, expecting an extra digit to appear next to her little finger. And one thing completely undeniable was that Graz'zt was handsome beyond words, lithe and muscular, yet perfectly proportioned, radiating attraction and beauty just like Malcanthet. His high cheek bones helped his mouth to form a mighty, sultry voice. Every now and then Graz'zt punctuated his comments by licking his lips and dragging his tongue across his teeth. He wore gleaming silver armor that only covered the upper part of his legs, his shoulders, and his arms. There he stood; Graz'zt, the Dark Prince of the Abyss, the Demon Prince of Shadows, and who Raven believed, without a shadow of doubt, was her father. 'Yes, surely,' Raven thought to herself, 'I am the child of this god.' And then Raven realized that it wasn't her saying that. In the back of her mind, the Demon had come to accept it to.

Graz'zt moved over to the petrified Socothbenoth. When he walked, despite his air of supreme masculinity, his motions were filled with an almost feminine grace. He grabbed Socothbenoth by the neck, gripping him by the neck and lifting him off the ground. "You have been a thorn in my side far too long, demon princeling. I grow weary of dealing with your pompous and arrogant ways. Is this how you treat your KING? The only thing that stopped me from killing you before was that filth called 'Malcanthet'. Well she's not coming to save you this time. NOW DIE!" Graz'zt threw Socothbenoth down and summoned a massive sword into his hand. Its dark blade curved back and forth until it reached the hilt (that resembled a pair of thin, wide, sharp horns) and thin handle. Graz'zt smiled and licked his lips, staring down the quivering Socothbenoth. "Doomshadow has been starved of your blood too long now." Graz'zt began to move, but Kresk teleported between the two eidolons. "Gent's, mind the lady." He strained, holding back Graz'zt.

Everyone's eyes turned on Raven. She felt nervous under the attention. It wasn't Socothbenoth's white eyes filled with hope that this distraction would allow him escape, it wasn't Baphomet's fierce yellow eyes full of rage or cannibalistic Baba Yaga's stare of hunger, it wasn't even Pale Night, a demon stronger than Graz'zt and older than Demogorgon, resembling nothing more than a voluptuous figure floating in the air, her features disturbingly hidden by a white sheet that covered her whole body, giving Raven an eyeless glare, no, it was not even that which made her tremble. No, it was when Graz'zt looked at her, and she looked back, and for the first time she looked into those glowing green eyes, truly looked into them, and recognized a glint of godhood that she swore she saw in own reflection every day. It was his stare, his eyes, searching her mind, body, and soul, piercing her that made her sweat. Raven felt her knees tremble, her mouth dry up, and her face flush when her eyes met those two emerald orbs. All of this happened in a split second.

"A human, Kresk? I should not kill this slime merely because of the presence of a mortal?"

"No, you shouldn't kill him because you would only be wasting your time. He's just an aspect after all. Besides-" Kresk began to converse with Graz'zt and drew him away to a private corner. Graz'zt appeared to be considering whatever Kresk was saying. For the first time, Raven noticed how large Kresk was. He was standing only a head shorter than Graz'zt. She didn't recall him being that large before. She asked Astaroth, who was presently nearby. "Astaroth, has Kresk always been that tall?"

"That's not his actual height. The same chaos magic that made Kresk lose his nose, mouth, eyes, hands, and, well, everything else also destroyed his legs. When he got everything else replaced, he got chaositech legs. So, he has the ability to manipulate his height for effect. He can be anywhere from four feet tall, which he uses for when he's groveling for something, to almost as big as Graz'zt, when he needs to make an impression." Suddenly it made sense how Kresk could walk around the tower hallways without trouble. Once again, another puzzle bothered Raven. "What's an 'aspect'?" Astaroth continued to answer all questions posted to him. "All cosmic entities, that is to say, gods, demon lords, arch-devils, archangels, and so forth and so forth, can create lesser, weaker versions of themselves. They use these lesser clones, or 'aspects', to do their work for them around the multiverse. Usually they're used to lead lesser servants as a morale booster, or sometimes it's just the old saying; 'If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.' All the 'demon lords' in this room are aspects of the real ones. Kresk specifically asked for the demon lords to send aspects."

"Why?"

"Lots of reasons, really. For starts, demons can't actually leave the Abyss unless they are summoned or they exit through a portal, like those doors you see on the walls. Now, if it's that hard for your run-of-the-mill dretch and succubus, imagine how difficult it is for a fully fledged demon lord. Second, because if too many demon lords gathered in the same place, well it would be a disaster. They would wage war, foul the nations of the earth, etc. And they would attract unwanted attention; angels, devils, eladrins, mortals begging for power. This way, we can keep things discreet, provided our magical cloaking holds up. And lastly, Kresk thought you might not be able to handle it. Don't be angry at him; he has a point. Not to sound arrogant, but demon princes are terrifying creatures to behold in their original states, emitting auras of sheer horror. Most mortals are driven to insanity if they don't have the will power to look at a demon lord. Kresk just wanted you to be safe."

"Oh." There was a moment of silence, where, despite Astaroth's advice, Raven was a little miffed at Kresk for his precautions. She didn't need him to take care of her. She saw demons in her dreams and visions all the time. How could this be any different? Raven considered asking Astaroth about this before she realized something. She had spent the better part of the night asking questions. Raven wondered if perhaps she was being too annoying, too much of a child, asking about this and that. Ironically, she asked a question about this. "Astaroth, am I asking too many questions." Astaroth looked over at her, and said, "The real question is why aren't you asking more questions? Despite walking into a room filled with the most powerful demons and magic in the multiverse, you come off as strangely silent."

"I know more about magic than you think." Raven retorted. She held out her hand and produced a ball of black fire. Astaroth stared at it dispassionately. "Not as much as you think, however." He picked up the ball of fire in his hand like it was a gem. He muttered something and particles of dust gathered into his other palm. Soon the dust twisted into a solid chunk of lead. Then the lead distorted its colors until it was a rich gold. It morphed and twirled like ooze in his hand. Astaroth picked up the ball of shadow fire and dropped it into the slime. Still it continued to move until a shape formed around an ebon gem that had once been the black fire. It contorted until at last it resembled a small wyvern coiled around the jewel. Astaroth murmured another word. The wyvern spread its wings, and, still holding the gem, flew away. "You may know much about magic for someone so young, but you still have a long way to being an arch-mage." Astaroth replied.

He plucked a feather from one of his six wings. It turned into a thick, old, worn, leather bound book in his hand. He gave it to Raven, casually handing it to her like it was a scrap of paper, despite its large size and unusual appearance. "THAT, is one of my oldest grimoires. It contains spells of various powers you should try if you ever want to achieve the status of arch-mage." Astaroth mentioned. Raven flipped through the book, looking at the illustrations of magic circles and symbols. She did notice that the book was unfortunately written in a series of violent looking emblems and runes, each crooked and malformed. She presumed this was Abyssal. "How do I read it?" she asked. Astaroth manifested another book fro his feathers, this one much shorter and thinner. It was merely labeled The Fraternity of Order's Guide to Abyssal, the Language of Demons. Astaroth had obviously manipulated the book so that it appeared in a readable form for Raven. "That should get you on the right foot." Astaroth quietly exclaimed, proud that, once again, another disaster of ignorance had been averted because of books and the written word. "And while we're at it," the demon lord pressed on, "here. EVERYBODY needs to know Draconic sooner or later." He place another book in her hands. This one was also a Fraternity of Order book, The Fraternity of Order's Guide to Draconic, the Language of Dragons and Draconic Creatures. The Diabolus noticed that Raven's arms were growing tired from the weight. He placed his hand over the books, and they were instantly transformed back into feathers. Raven reached back and placed the feathers into her hood. Something was happening with Graz'zt.

Kresk summoned Socothbenoth over to him. The Demon Prince of Pleasure and Perversion practically crawled over to the two towering demons before him, and Kresk had to pull up his hair before he stood up straight. Then, Kresk started to yell to the gathered multitude around him. "Alright! Listen and listen well, cutters! The Dark Prince himself has decided to give Socothbenoth a slight piece of mercy. He will not kill this 'lowly worm', tonight anyway. But that does not mean that the Patron of the Tents and Tabernacles of the Daughters shall walk free. So the two shall do battle, shall duel, in the oldest of all old contests, performed since the before Age Before Ages, before the War of Law and Chaos, before the first light dawned on the elves and the first life crawled from the seas of the Mortal Coil. They shall have a duel of realities!" The hope left Socothbenoth's face. A duel of realities took wit, cunning, and intelligence, and there were none in the Abyss who had more of all three than Graz'zt. Kresk continued with his tirade, "Challengers, take your places!"

Socothbenoth sat down at one end of the table, Graz'zt stood at the other. As Kresk recited the few rules in Abyssal, an enclave of other demons gathered behind Socothbenoth. They did not support him directly, but more the cause against Graz'zt. Demogorgon stood by with cephalopod heads, cradling Malcanthet in his tentacles. Pazuzu flapped down, as did Orcus and Yeenoghu. More came, but surprisingly, the forces with Graz'zt and the ones against him balanced out rather well (of course this was because several demon lords could not attend, as well as various favored worshippers and servants). A hush came over the throng, broken only by the occasional squawk or whisper, and an invisible arcane fog permeated the air. Socothbenoth began, "I am mouse, small and common." A mouse appeared on the table, so real Raven could see the tiniest details of its fur. Graz'zt replied, "I am cat, mouse-eating and cunning." Sure enough, a calico cat appeared on the table, devouring the tiny rodent. "I am a dog, cat-eating and strong." A pit bull manifested and consumed the feline. "I am a tiger, stronger, faster, and consumer of all." A tiger appeared, and ripped the pit bull to shreds. "I am man, destroyer and despoiler of all creatures." A man appeared with a gun, and shot the noble tiger down. "I am death, which comes for all mortals in time." The man aged, and aged, until there was nothing left but his shriveled corpse on the ground. "I am immortal, my soul and my body one, deathless. None can take me now." The corpse rose, radiating lighting and spreading wings of energy. Graz'zt remained silent. He had any vast number of trump cards at this point in time, but none of them would work in this game. There was no easy way to win. Other immortals, demons, angels, they would all just make the game a tie. He didn't want a tie, he wanted a victory.

Raven saw that it was taking her father a moment to find something to beat this latest addition. She thought, and pondered, and reflected, until at last she came up with a strategy. Raven attempted a desperate move. In her mind, she called out to Graz'zt, pleaded with him, and begged him to listen to her plea. It worked, at last it worked, for she heard his sultry voice caress her surface thoughts in her head. "Yes, mortal?" he asked. "I know how you can beat him." She replied. "Oh, and how is that, human?"

"I have heard that gods are above immortals."

"This is true."

"Why not just choose a deity?"

"Because there are levels of divinity. If I pick a god, he chooses one stronger, and then I have an even larger problem."

"But isn't it true that a god is only as strong as its believers make it."

"Indeed, the graveyard of gods on the Astral Plane is evidence to this. I fail to see how this helps me though."

"Be an atheist." Suddenly, Graz'zt saw the wisdom in this gambit. He evidenced his pleasure by turning ever so slightly in Raven's direction, placing his emerald eyes upon her, and smiling, revealing his yellowed fangs. "Little one, wise beyond your years, who are you?" he thought to her. "They call me Raven, and you may know who I am soon enough." Graz'zt continued with the contest. "I am a god, a lesser deity, a hero ascended to a controller of the universe." A small being, a glowing figure appeared. Socothbenoth smirked and scowled, "I am a greater god, I am Zeus and Ra and Odin. I am father of pantheons, slayer of titans, and puppeteer of the multiverse." A mighty entity, a true vision of god-hood manifested, emanating lighting and radiance. Graz'zt continued, "I am your faithful, your believers." A horde of hundreds of beings appeared, humans, dwarves, halflings, elves, and dozens of others. Socothbenoth continued, "I am divine wrath, and I smite every single one of you." The people were struck by thunder and plagues, their skin burning and aching. Graz'zt made his final move, "I am the uncaring, the wronged, the converted. I am still all these beings, but we do not believe in you. We are your followers no more, for now or ever." The people turned their back on the deity, looked away from it. They dropped their holy symbols, forgot the old holy stories, and burned or abandoned the holy texts. The god on the table's luminance began to die. It cast lightning and meteors at its former followers, but they would not look at it, accusing the odd occurrences as arcane magic, the workings of a new god, or even just the weather. The old god dimmed and dimmed, its formerly radiant body graying and eventually hardening into dead rock. Socothbenoth's eyes widened in shock as he realized what had happened. He had been lured into the perfect trap. Kresk walked over and yelled, "The winner, once more, now and forever, is Graz'zt! Let it be known to all!" Socothbenoth let his head and allowed it to crash on the table. Graz'zt stood there, smirking at the deposed lord. The demon princes behind Socothbenoth walked away, laughing at him, some spitting or hissing insults at him. Socothbenoth just lay there and accepted the salt in his fresh wounds.

Graz'zt began to walk away as well, but before he left, he turned around and smiled at Raven. "Young cambion, you have proven yourself a worthy acolyte tonight. Remember that there is a place waiting for you in Azzagrat, should you choose." And in a flash, Graz'zt was gone. He disappeared to another section of the room. Raven swelled with smiled with pride at the compliment, but at the same time was a little disappointed that Graz'zt had not acknowledged her as one of his children. "Cambion? Well this is new." Astaroth remarked. Raven was suddenly aware that it was just her, Kresk, Ipos, Astaroth, and the currently humiliated Socothbenoth again. She and the others took their seats at the table again. Raven looked over at deprived Socothbenoth again. All she could see was his long, brown hair and his protruding ears, but she swore she heard the distinct sound of sobbing. "So you mean to tell us, Kresk, that this little creature here is among the ranks of the fiendish?" Astaroth alleged. "Appears to be the case." Kresk replied. "Then why does she look like that?" Ipos queried, sounding like Raven was covered in slime. "Who knows." Kresk refuted. "It's probably a Merlin factor." Astaroth queried. "Come again?" said Kresk. "As you'll recall, Merlin's father was an incubus, but his mother was a mortal. However, his mother's heart was so pure, that when he was born, all traces of any fiendish heritage disappeared. This girl's mother must have repented from the occult before your apprentice was born Kresk." Astaroth explained. "Works for me. By the way, whatever happened to the old man after the Second World War?"

"Nobody knows. I've tried contacting him, but I cannot reach him. Some believe he went back into hibernation, until Britain would need him again. Others say he's still around, wandering the multiverse or manipulating the birth of a new Pendragon to replace Arthur and lead Britain back to a golden age. Like I said though, nobody really knows."

"The last time anybody saw him was the incident of False Avalon. (The incident of False Avalon; one of many paranormal events to occur during WWII. In this particular incident, which occurred very close to the end of the war and may have been one of the reason Hitler committed suicide, top members of the Thule society had been sent to a remote island off the coast of Greenland where Hitler believed the Holy Grail had been hidden, one of several sites. I mean the 'real' Holy Grail, not that DaVinci code crap. Incidentally this was the actual resting place of the Grail, and no, a killer rabbit, a Frenchmen, or a multi-eyed animated monster that was killed by a sudden heart-attack of the animator did not guard it. The leader of this group, his or her name lost, ignored the Fuhrer's orders and actually drank from the Grail, imbuing them with incredible power and also driving them completely insane. With their new-found power, the leader of the group actually willed the island to move and serve as a sort of ship, hence the name, False Avalon. Along the way, the leader grew steadily more insane and used their new found arcane-might to summon various fiends, sin-dragons, undead, and Unseelie Court fey to them, developing a small army that would allow them to completely destroy Britain and, after killing Hitler themselves, conquering the globe and ushering in the new-world order. However, the Allies got word of this in time to send a covert force to attempt to destroy False Avalon and acquire the Holy Grail, or at the very least stall the army until a method to destroy them could be found. The force of twelve reached the island and was subsequently nearly destroyed, save for a small handful, about three. When things started to look really bleak, out of nowhere, the ghosts of Arthur, Galahad, Lancelot, Gawain, and other Round Table members appeared, heeding the plea of Merlin who had been the third covert member who was still alive. The Thule Society leader was ultimately destroyed as well as False Avalon. The other two surviving members of the Allied force were taken back with the Knights of the Round Table to the real Avalon and were honorably made Knights themselves. Nobody knows the whereabouts of Merlin or the Grail. Needless to say, the entire incident was made top secret. It was marked as one of the more memorable paranormal incidents of the century, along with disappearance, reappearance, death, and replacement of Morpheus the Sandman a.k.a. Dream of the Endless, the King of Dream; the summoning of an avatar of Azathoth in Siberia, and Anung Un Rama eating pancakes, forever severing his ties to the Lower Planes.) Some say he's wandering around Faerie." Ipos said. "But back to the point. Who's the father supposed to be?"

"If I had to guess, I'd say he just left." Kresk retorted, looking off into the direction Graz'zt had last been seen. "Well, Graz'zt does get around, although her mother must have acted quickly in order to blot out his features. Does she even have the sixth finger trait?" Astaroth wondered. "Just five, Diabolus. What's weird is that she's just finding out tonight. She hadn't even heard the name 'Graz'zt' until I mentioned it to her."

"You jest!"

"I kid you not. She's been under the impression that some cutter named 'Bi-gon' is her father." Kresk chuckled. This was too much for Raven. It was one thing to be the puppet of a demon lord, but it was another to be the puppet of a demon lord no one had heard of. Raven sighed before angrily spitting out, "For the last time, it's Trigon!" The group stared at her before various remarks of puzzlement.

"Who?"

"What now?"

"Never heard of him."

"Isn't that a kind of bicycle?" Raven sat humiliated. Now this was degrading. The demon manipulating her, ruining her life, was an Abyssal nobody. She vainly pleaded for Trigon's dignity. "You've never heard of him? Trigon? The lord of darkness and evil?" The group suddenly had a look of amused understanding on their face. Kresk stood up and said, "Kid, let me show you something." Kresk teleported to the main stage, shoving a group of singing harpies out of the way. He called out to the mob before him, "Yes, pardon me, could I have everyone's attention for a brief moment? Yes, thank you. Now I have a small favor to ask of all the demons in the house tonight. Would the 'lord of all darkness and evil' please raise their hand, wing, tentacle, paw, talon, pseudopodia, etc. into the air?" And at that moment, every living thing in the room raised an appendage. Demogorgon raised both his tentacles, both for his two minds, Socothbenoth placed a weary hand into the air, even Jubilex saluted an extension of vertical slime. And it wasn't just demon lords; the succubae raised their hands, as did the hezrous, mariliths, and even the lowest of lows, dretches placed their claws into the air.

Kresk thanked the mob, "Yes, thank you once more. As you were." Kresk teleported back.

And so Kresk began to explain the nature of fiends. "You see, child of mine, just saying that this 'Trigon' fellow is the lord of all evil and darkness doesn't mean anything. EVERY demon, daemon, and devil is the lord of evil and darkness. As long as they can convince some unwitting mortals that they are the top of the food chain, they are the lords of darkness and evil." Suddenly Raven felt so had, so played. Trigon was an absolute nobody, a nameless being who owned thing in his own home plane. "Now I remember where I heard it!" Astaroth exclaimed. "Trigon; he's an emperor."

"Really?" Kresk sarcastically asked. "I do believe so. That would account for his absence on the Abyss if he transferred all his power to the Material Plane." Astaroth continued. That was a little consoling to Raven. Kresk noticed her new-found shame. "Ah, cheer up. So you're a pawn for a big-shot on the Prime and a nobody on the Abyss. So what? You are the fruit of Graz'zt's loins, his daughter. Will he pay attention to you or really care, presuming he even takes the time to check? Probably not. But who cares? That means you come from a long, proud lineage, born from the Abyss itself. You have more royal blood in you than me or Ipos or Soc! Even Apollyon isn't a true demon, so they say." Kresk said comforting Raven. On the inside she felt a little better. Kresk had a point. Trigon was a nobody. She was just misinformed. And once again, Raven felt that the world was safe. Socothbenoth, however, let out an agonized groan. "Thanks a lot, Kresk. I feel so much better now." Socothbenoth sighed. Ipos elbowed Kresk and gave him a look that told him it was time to cheer Soc up. Kresk leaned over to Socothbenoth grinning, and asked "Hey Soc, wanna' hear a joke?"

"No."

"Too bad." Kresk licked his lips before spitting out, "Belial." He snickered with Ipos and Astaroth. Socothbenoth's ears perked up a little. Kresk continued, "Hey, Fierna." The three demons laughed at this. Soc looked up, his dour mood beginning to disappear. Kresk pressed forward, "Wait, wait, I have another. Morwel!" The three burst out laughing at the inside joke. Socothbenoth sat up, smiling now. "Oh, oh, I have one more. Get ready to laugh. Oberon!" Now Socothbenoth joined in the laughter with the other three. They continued laughing uproariously, Socothbenoth's spirits lifted once more. That was until he perked up one of his ears and raised a hand into the air. "What is it?" Kresk asked. "Listen." Soc said. The group listened in the air, Ipos raising a feline ear, Astaroth's dragon putting it's jaw onto the ground. "What do you hear?" Socothbenoth asked. Kresk thought about it and said, "Nothing." Socothbenoth looked over at him and said, unnervingly, "Precisely." Kresk's eyes widened in horror and annoyance. "Oh no, he can't be here tonight!"

"Who?" Raven inquired. Astaroth tried to calm Kresk, "Now, now, he probably didn't come. You know he never leaves his layer."

"Don't try to cheer me up, Diabolus. He's around here somewhere. I can smell him." Kresk snarled. He looked around at the various cliques gathered around the room. All of them were alive and active, talking or at the least communicating in some way. All of them except one. Zuggtmoy, Lolth, Yeenoghu, and Anarazel all stood silently above a vague gray shape. It stood there muttering, below their heights. Raven looked at it. It was a piteous form to say the least. A mass of voluminous gray robes made up the bulk of the form. Emerging from the sleeves were hands so old, so impossibly ancient that it appeared dust that had seen the birth of the Planes themselves was falling off with each rare movement. The skin was pulled over them so tight it was wonder the being wasn't a skeleton. But what was truly pathetic was the creature's head. It was a face so prehistoric, so human, so decrepit that it was hard to see past all the wrinkles. Basset hound eyes stared from sunken sockets, a withered, cracked nose between them. It's thin dry lips muttered a constant stream of some gibberish. Raven could not tell whether the things coming off the sides of its bald head were very hair-ears or worn down horns. A crow almost as old as the figure stood on its shoulder. In one hand, it carried a massive book, almost too big for its skeleton hands.

"Oh no, who invited Raum?" Kresk muttered. All eyes looked at Astaroth. "What?" the Diabolus defended. The others' stare remained. "Oh, just because I'm one of the only ones to ever talk to him, instantly I'm responsible." The defense was failing. Astaroth finally broke down, "Alright, fine. I met on the Pazunia and I may have slipped that there was a party. He just so looked so sad…"

"He looks sad all the time, you dupe!" Kresk yelled. "Who is Raum?" Raven asked. Kresk let out a miffed reply, "Raum, demiurge of soothsayers, doomsdays, fortunetellers, and apocalyptic prophecies. He can foretell the future, and he has a knack for remembering catastrophes before they happen. He's the ultimate mood-killer." Raven continued to stare at Raum, how gloomy, how depressing he was. Then, he stared back, directly at her. That's when he started to walk over. Kresk noticed this. "Oh, no! Who made eye-contact?"

"He's coming over here! Quick, pretend to be dead!"

"It's not gonna' work! Quick, run!"

"Hello, brothers." Raum muttered out in a dusty, dry voice filled with grief. He pronounced his words like he was saying them backwards. Kresk sighed before he kicked Astaroth under the table. The Diabolus talked to Raum, "Yes, helot to you to, Raum." Raum merely stood there. Astaroth sighed again and said, "Yes, now you can take your seat." The crippled creature summoned a chair and sat across from Raven. He kept staring at her. After a while, he opened his book, and flipped through the pages. He found a fresher, crumpled page. He read through it, taking his time. Then, he looked back up at her, and whispered out, "Ah, destiny."

"Oh, god. Him to. Well this is gonna' be a long night." Kresk groaned. He summoned his familiar. The quasit perched on his shoulder, taking orders from Kresk. "Nickis, yeah, faerie blood mixed with rat-poison, on the double." The creature chirped before it flew off. "The fire that burns to Apollyon." Raum muttered under his breath. "Raum, I'm not burning my books yet." Astaroth snapped. "The fire in all things. The fire that burns to Abaddon."

"I think he's speaking metaphorically again. I hate it when he does that." Kresk mumbled. "What, lust, wrath?" Ipos asked. "I think he means everything." Socothbenoth postulated. "No, he's quoting Job. He distinctly means lust." Ipos retorted. "Oh, shut up. If it was Abaddon, it would be fire. And as we all know fire is lust and wrath." Socothbenoth back-talked. "I have to agree with Soc here. Fire is distinctly wrath and lust, both forms of destruction and creation. But what is destruction but a form of creation, and what is creation but a form of destruction? To unleash the inner fire, to let it escape not as a single stream, but as a bloody ecstasy, that is the fire that burns to Apollyon. It is to release all the flames. It is to destroy life, and therefore, create something new."

"Oh, that's crap! Everyone knows Apollyon destruction is complete annihilation, oblivion, not destruction in general!"

"How do you know? What makes you so sure you know everything about the Angel of Destruction?"

"I know you're wrong."

"Oh really? Should I call Graz'zt back over here? Maybe he can settle this for us!"

Astaroth sighed, "Nobody knows what Apollyon wants, or what it means. Should I ask him to come here and tell us?" The arguing demon lords backed down from the argument. "That's what I thought." Astaroth chided. Raven had stopped listening. When Raum had first uttered his terrible words, she had felt cold claws grip her heart. She knew Kresk was right; fire was energy, destruction and therefore creation. And it was just like he said, the fire that burns to Apollyon. It was letting it all out at the same time, all the wrath and energy at the same time, letting everything go so it could die in the pyre of energy. The Demon knew this, she knew it so well. The Demon was this energy, was nothing but this pyre alive. And Raven remembered again. She remembered the first time that it felt like her skin couldn't hold the Demon, couldn't hold her wrath. She remembered the first time she let it all out. She remembered the first time she truly unleashed the demon unto the world of man.