"It doesn't matter who my father was; it matters who I remember he was."
Anne Sexton (1928-1974
"If you cannot get rid of the family skeleton, you may as well make it dance."
George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950)
Finding out that Trigon wasn't her father made it all the worse when Raven found out that, dad or not, Trigon was still coming. And suddenly all the weight of pressure and fear she had dropped the night she found out Graz'zt was her father came back ten-fold. Fighting, fighting past Slade and even her own mother, Raven desperately sought some way to make her new lineage work for her. It was to no avail however. Try as she might, Slade was right. Trigon was coming, and nothing could stop him.
As such, Raven devoted all of her energy to finding someway to avert the coming of Trigon. Of course that she visited her mother is common knowledge. But that came after a lot of studying. She did most of her research in Kresk's library, as her own spell books were inadequate. She learned the argot of demons quickly, Astaroth's guide to Abyssal being invaluable. After all, there is nothing like fear to cause a speedy education. Through innumerable, prolix grimoires, Raven poured over pages of spells and lore, to no avail. She discovered all manner of extraordinary information in Kresk's library; seaweed of the River Styx, daemon, demon, and devil lords from all manner of planes, infernal fashion, and other, less demonic things, namely Kresk's large collection of Gilbert and Sullivan paraphernalia, as well as his numerous cook books.
Kresk was a rather eccentric individual by anyone's book. Ironically, doing all her research and not speaking to the Fire Demon was how she got to know him better. In the broad scheme of things, if Graz'zt was Raven's father, Kresk was like her crazy uncle who was an intermediary between her and her father's world. As such, Kresk had no issue with Raven spending so much time around his library and house. Even the staff was beginning to recognize her. The nalfeshnee (boar-demon) Bormulk greeted her casually as 'Rae' every time she entered the house, the succubae pestered her like she was their little cousin, and Janys… well Janys stayed Janys (talking slimes don't have much personality). She found that he was a massive fan of opera, as well as cooking.
In fact, Kresk's house wasn't just the Fire Demon's extra planar abode; it was also a sort of inn. Kresk rented out rooms to traveling demons, and also acted as a sort of traveling agent, sending them to a certain arch-demon or another. As such, sometimes patrons would stay overnight. These are when Kresk would disappear into the kitchen for hours only to come back with infernal gourmet. Anaconda stuffed with glass eel, dretch-brain soup, Hades grubs wrapped in black hog bacon, and other less pleasant things came to the table. Raven inadvertently ate some of the chow once. Studying hard, she hadn't eaten all day. Kresk, in a gesture of kindness, left her a platter of Styx calamari. Without actually realizing it, Raven stuffed a curled, tightly wrapped tentacle into her mouth. She actually had to chew it to realize that something was wrong (Kresk's culinary secret, cooking it with water from the Plane of Tears and green onions, disguised the flavor). Looking down at the now cooked cephalopod, Raven was disgusted. However, this didn't stop her from finishing the dish.
Kresk's obsession with opera was less obvious. But Kresk loved opera, without a shadow of a doubt. He had a particular fondness for English operas, especially, especially Gilbert and Sullivan and Sondheim. Whenever the Fire Demon was in a particularly good mood, he would sing. It was disturbing to Raven to listen to Kresk wail out those banshee notes. It was even more disturbing to listen to him sing in Abyssal, which sounded like two cats fighting. But, Raven did have to admire Kris's love for the music, even if he sang it…badly.
But those were not all of the Fire Demon's odd habits and ways. Every now and then he ran an old, silver coin in his hands, jangling it, running it across his knuckles, and otherwise coveting it. He would never let anyone else touch it, so it was hard to determine what the coin really was. When Raven asked Kresk about it, he told her, "It's one of the thirty pieces of silver Judas sold Christ out for. Yes, all the other twenty-nine pieces were melted down, but I saved this one! It's my lucky charm, my baby. I had to go through all of Hades, Gehenna, and Hell to get it, but it was worth every scar, drop of lost blood, and devilish memory. Oh, do you feel the pulse? Betrayal incarnate poured into this coin, this one scrap of metal. Oh, there hasn't been an evil like this since John met Yoko."
Of course, there were times when Kresk wasn't there. Sometimes he would just go, simple as that. Other times, well other times were a bit more extravagant, the peak being when he rode out on a giant black goat that was carrying a record player playing "Ride of the Valkyries" by Vagner, holy water, numerous weapons and ammo, and other supplies. Kresk was screaming something about he was finally going to have his revenge on the Rolling Stones for one reason or another, and that he had been waiting a long time for this. He rode out, Vagner playing full blast, and wasn't seen for three days and two nights. On the evening of the third day, he was found collapsed at the front door, his robes ripped, the rest of him mangled, broken, and bleeding. The only thing he uttered out before he fainted was, "Keith…Richards…just…wouldn't…die." Of course almost, but not quite, as infamous was when Kresk ran into the house screaming that the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and PBS were after him. At first, nobody believed him. But that night, Titan's Tower received an anonymous call telling them that if they surrendered now, they would receive a special edition Nova tote bag and a selection of Salt Lake City's best. And then, of course there was Kresk's obsessive fear of nuns, rabbis, priests, and other religious figures…
Of course, none of this could sway Raven from her search for information. Page after page turned into book after book that turned into shelf after shelf of study. And among the most fascinating and disturbing morsels of information Raven found was information about her father, Graz'zt. It may strike some that Raven never mentioned Graz'zt to many, still asserting that her father was Trigon, and that is for one simple reason. Compared to Graz'zt, Trigon was a little church-choir boy singing out soft 'alleluias' compared to an angry, vengeful Old Testament God shouting, nay, roaring the plagues at Egypt. The sheer malevolence and power of Graz'zt obviated Trigon's pathetic conquests and brio of flame and gloom.
Trigon conquered worlds. On an average he enslaved the general populace and left the corrupt in charge. But in the end, that was all. Most of the time Trigon didn't even go this far. He came, he saw with his four eyes, he conquered and all the masses had to do was cough up a few resources and admit that he was their leader. Then Trigon would leave, even letting the old leaders keep their positions. Of course nobody cared about these planets, because they weren't all that bad, actually improving under Trigon's rule in some cases. Everybody heard about the worst-case scenarios, the worlds that were reduced to ash and kept under an iron fist. But of course, these were worst-case scenarios. That entire 'the age of mortals is at an end' thing? That was just the big guy letting off some steam. You would be to if you were trapped in your daughter's mind for sixteen years.
But not Graz'zt, not the Prince of Shadows. No, Graz'zt destroyed worlds just for the hell of it. If someone gave Graz'zt a wrong look, they, and their family, and their world, wouldn't exist after a while. Graz'zt bore no similitude to Trigon. Trigon wanted, needed his Material Plane empire. Graz'zt knew that it didn't matter if one pathetic world died, because one day, he would rule all the multiverse, Material Plane and all. When Graz'zt had a bad day, it became several major religions versions of Hell, as the Father of Lamias tore through cities and planets in an unbound rage until nothing was left standing save for him and his legions of demons. Graz'zt did not stop at simple murders and petty genocides; Graz'zt went far enough to track souls down and destroy them, wiping them out entirely and denying any hope of rest or salvation for his enemies that walked the mortal realm. When Graz'zt came to power on a Material Plane world, it wasn't just the state of the government that was corrupt. It was everything. Worlds fell into darkness and evil at his caress, nations toppled, empires rotted and were destroyed, falling so far from any semblance of good or even neutrality that the people wondered if there had ever been a light there. Moons fell, shadows grew deeper, black clouds descended and eventually the planet itself would tear itself apart in savage anarchy. And it almost seemed the whole of all worlds worshipped him; however he was only the third most worshipped Demiurge in existence, Orcus, Demiurge of Undead, and Lolth, Demiurge of Spiders, Magic and Dark Elves were slightly more revered. Nothing written or said would ever do justice to the majestic Lord of the Triple Realm.
And this was how Raven became acquainted with her brothers and sisters. Her research showed that the Ebon Lord's promiscuity was as legendary as Kresk presented it. All across the multiverse, millions upon millions of half-demons had Graz'zt to thank for their existence. And Raven began to know just a few of her astronomical family in her readings. There was Rhyxali, Princess of the Shadow Demons and Graz'zt's sister. Lupercio and Vucarik of Chains, powerful Demon Princes in their own right, were his half-brothers. And of course there were was the titanic progeny that was Raven's siblings, nephews and nieces. Iuz the Old, a demigod of evil was Graz'zt's son by the witch-queen Iggwilv. Vaprak, wrathful god of ogres, trolls, and oni was Raven's half-brother by a goddess that Graz'zt seduced. Graz'zt's dark elf son Athux led his demonic armies, and his daughter, and Raven's half-sibling Thraxia was the Ebon Lord's private assassin. This was not even counting the massive amounts of plane-touched, tieflings, fey'ri, and other demon descended races that counted Graz'zt as their ancestor. Mortals from all paths of the worlds called Graz'zt their patriarch. Emperors, kings, beggars, thieves, nobles, peasants, murderers, rapists, monks, bards, lunatics, philosophers; all these and more claimed that the Imperator of Tenebrosity's blood flowed through their veins. And there were any number of monsters that claimed Graz'zt as their progenitor; lamias, harpies, the dark, Adam-like vasharans, black unicorns, and countless species of demons tailor-made by the Khan of Shade.
And where did young Raven reap this erudition? Why from none other than Graz'zt's own personal autobiography. All seven of them, and Kresk said this was merely a small section; according to the Fire Demon, there was an entire wing in Graz'zt's private library devoted to biographies. The Adjudicator of Dusk had no qualms with sharing his personal life with the outside world. Graz'zt was vain to an unbelievable extreme. He would pluck the feathers off a peacock just to gain an extra bit of attention. It became a small hobby of Raven's to read through all of these, as her father's life-stories never ceased to amuse her. From his accounts, there was nothing Graz'zt didn't do; he rode the wind with witches, summoned the Plane of Shadows to the Abyss like it was a lesser demon, fought against even greater Demiurge such as Demogorgon and Orcus, constructed shady eidolons with a thought, and plucked the fruit of divinity out of all paradises in the multiverse so no one race could know perfection. Some of his auto-biographies had tact titles, such as Come Hither to Darkness which came off more as a manifesto, but the unconditionally enjoyable ones were particularly bawdy, especially the Sigilian best-seller, Sex, Drugs, and Demon Lords: An Auto-Biography of Graz'zt. The title practically sold itself. In this book alone, the Demiurge supposedly seduced Hera, battled an army of 10,000 angels, demons, and devils, and then plunged two or three worlds into darkness. And that was just the first three chapters.
Two themes that kept coming up in Graz'zt's books was the mention of two subjects, Pale Night and the Throne of Darkness. Both were variously described as persons, places, times, concepts, and objects. When Raven asked about Pale Night, Kresk (who was in the kitchen organizing glass jars filled with odd liquids, his back to Raven) chuckled and simply said, "She's a Demiurge, an old one at that. She and Graz'zt have some connection, but I couldn't tell you much more. Keeps to her self a lot, ya' know? She supposed to be a little bit younger than Dagon and Demogorgon, but just a little bit."
"And what's the 'Throne of Darkness'?" Raven innocently inquired. At that moment Kresk tightened up, arching his shoulders, lowering his head, folding his arms like a mantis, practically going into a seizure of nervous responses, and dropping jars everywhere. He yelled and screamed, but he wasn't angry. No, far worse, was that Kresk was scared, horrified at the mere mention of whatever the 'Throne of Darkness' was. "It's nothing! It's no one! It's nowhere! Stop asking! I don't know!"
"If it's nothing, why are you yelling?"
"I don't know! Is that the kettle boiling? I have to leave now, must be attending the forum and such!" he yelled, politely shoving Raven out of the kitchen.
"I thought you said tea was boiling?" Raven responded. She was met only with a panicked yelp. Later that night, passing by Kresk's room to see if he was alright, she thought she heard the faint sound of the 'Dies Irae' by Mozart being played above the sounds of compulsive sobbing. But even this singular incident did not dissuade Raven from her work. And of course, it did not dissuade Trigon from coming. But of course, this leaves the question of where Kresk was during the 'apocalypse', as well as the other Demon Lords. For Kresk, it began with a simple gut feeling…
Sometime shortly after the unleashing of Trigon…
Something was up. Kresk could smell it, could feel it in his oversized gut, and could hear it in crackling flames with whispering shadows. The balance had shifted out of sway, like when Tera had come, but it was different. When Tera came the change was elemental, but this, this change was fundamental. The Fire Demon was standing in the common room. Janys lay limply in her bowl, and Bormulk only worked at his desk. Some clients had passed by, most notably a young fallen aasimar (grandchild, at least, of an angel and a human). The succubae sat at a table near her and cast flirtatious, giggles, smiles, and stares at her. The aasimar, only recently strayed from the path of some random god of light and in the current employment of Chask, a Demon Lord of scythes, had passed through on a mission from her lord. The succubus's come-hither smiles and stares only made her more nervous, which of course egged the two succubae on. What truly disturbed the aasimar was the fact that every now and then she smiled back with her white teeth and an amorous gleam in her platinum eyes. After a while, the two succubae sauntered over to the aasimar and sat close to her, an enticing grin on their lips. They asked her the usual flirtatious questions, each party tittering and playing the other.
Kresk wasn't paying attention to the scene of viral youth. He was occupied with what was going on outside. To him, it was like hearing a raging thunderstorm outside but not seeing the rain or hearing any thunder, just feeling it. His train of thought was broken by the loud peal from the nearby table. He barked out "Quiet! The lot of you!" The three young women looked up, staring at the disquieted Kresk. "Listen, do you hear that?" Kresk asked. "No." Each girl responded in unison. They would have laughed, but the heckles on Kresk's back were up. He walked into the antechamber with Bormulk sitting at the podium. In the back he could hear the party ask their coy questions to each other. Kresk stared up at the old nalfeshnee, one of his tusks broken in the middle, a gold ring through is boar-like snout, the feathers on his wings fading gray. "Anything weird come in, old friend?" Kresk wringed. Bormulk only let out a negative, lazy snort. "Something's not right. I'm headin' out. You and Janys hold the fort down for me." Kresk voiced.
"Alright." The boar demon only wheezed out. The Fire Demon walked towards the door. Normally, an arcane thought from Kresk transformed the archway into a portal; visible only by the time Kresk was actually at the threshold. But instead, Kresk only walked straight into the wall. He looked at the wall, and walked again, only to be rebutted again. "Hey Bormulk, what do you make of this?" Kresk inquested. The boar demon moved towards the door, walking on his knuckles. He rapped against the blank wall, sniffed it with his porcine nose, and even pressed his ear against it. He tried using a spell on it, twitching his fat fingers multiple times. When that failed, he tried punching it, to no avail. And finally, Bormulk tried ramming his shoulder against it. Tired, he stood and panted before he felt Kresk pat his arm and simply say, "That'll do, pig-demon. That'll do."
"It's something with this portal. Something's blocking it or haltin' the magic or something weird like that. You better use one of the others."
"Right. I'll try the one in the space needle. You get some rest." Kresk marched out of the antechamber, into the main room, and down a side-hall that contained a series of doorways and rooms. Passing one room with a red, furnished door bearing an Italian style, he heard the raunchy giggling of two succubae and a certain aasimar. Kresk only muttered to himself, "Youth is wasted on the young." Before he found the door he was looking for. It was a steel-blue door, and looked like nothing more than the entry to a human janitorial closet. He burst through it and stood on the roof of the desiccated space needle where Raven and Slade had stood earlier. He had made the portal because, for some odd reason, idiotic people, namely teenagers, found the need to go up to the top of the needle. Maybe it was for sex, maybe for suicide, or Kresk's personal favorite, some kind of séance, but either way, Kresk loved to appear out of nowhere and scare the living crap out of them. Particularly the séance ones. They'd always finish chanting or burning something, then Kresk would manifest, usually just his leering head, spewing flares from his mouth and nostrils, and after enflaming his horns. Of course the problem with this was that the traumatized ritual-goers would usually seek comfort in religion, but Kresk viewed this as a 'spend money to make money' situation.
But not this time, not this day. No, this time, Kresk emerged on a scene that had danced across his most delightful fantasies, save for a few details and characters. The sky was red and filled with black clouds. Buildings and towers lay in skeletal ruins while petrified mortals were eternally frozen in screams of terror. Ash, dust, and rubble covered the landscape, while the few living survivors scurried about like two-legged rats among the heinous scene. The ocean and all water had been changed to molten lava. Four eyed ravens flew about with their jagged beaks stiff cries. Kresk would have gone with imps, or bats, small dragons if he could get them, but ravens worked well too. But why four eyes. And then Kresk saw Trigon sitting on his makeshift throne. Kresk almost yelped out at the sight of the colossal demon. And then everything hit Kresk. "Well, I'll be damned. Sugar me up and call me Georgia if this ain't just peachy. The kid was right. That must be 'Trojan' or whatever the Hells his name is." Kresk gasped out. "Not half bad. She did okay for a half-demon."
A bolt of purple, green, and orange shot by followed by a streak of gray and red. Kresk yelled out, but Starfire didn't notice him, pursued by her clone. All she saw was another blur of red and orange, and assumed it was one of Trigon's servants. Kresk turned invisible before he watched the two Starfires fight in midair. "Huh, a shadow simulacrum." He said to himself. He listened to the snide threats from the clone. "You are weak! You have always been weak! You do not deserve Robin! Robin will be mine!" the doppelganger screamed out. "Ooh, alignment simulacrums at that!" Kresk gleefully murmured to himself. "Those might come in handy." Kresk took four tubes from his pockets. "Now where's Boy Blunder and Half a Man?" he inquired silently. The two Starfires flew by him again. "Well, no sense in wasting opportunity." He announced. Kresk lifted a tube above his head and followed the dark Starfire with it. There was a sound of vacuum, and a red light appeared inside one of the tubes. Kresk flipped it, kissed it, and said, "Do well by me sweetheart. Do well." Then the Fire Demon went about gathering the rest of the Titan's simulacrum's essences. Cyborg's wasn't too hard (Kresk only muttered out "Typical construct paranoia. 'Who am I?' this, 'What am I?' that. Nah, nah, nah…"), but Beast Boy's was a little harder. A vocal component was needed, and nothing could be gathered from the howls, roars, and screams. Kresk spent twenty minutes shouting, "Come on, Stupid! Give me something to work with! Words, Stupid! Use words!"
Kresk gathered that Robin and Raven were absent, but he couldn't help but wonder why. Robin was easy for Kresk; as the stereotypical, rash leader of heroes, he had to go save Raven. But Kresk was still perplexed about Raven. And then, all the pieces came together in Kresk's mind. Trigon was old. Old enough that he needed an heir for his empire, but too old to sire one. And so, when a young woman with a newborn Raven came to the monastery of his archenemies, the monks of Azarath, it was the perfect opportunity. Raven would grow up until she could release Trigon from his prison. Then, then Trigon would be able to revert Raven to a child, and from there, raise her as his own, shape her and mold her to be an heir. As of now, Kresk realized, Raven was like wet clay. If he could get to her first, before Trigon or Robin, then he, Kresk, could do the same thing. He could raise Raven in this new hellhole world to be his first disciple, his first worshipper and zealot in nearly a hundred years. And all it takes is one zealot to start the fires of worship. He could begin his ascension to true Demon Princedom. Kresk clacked his fingers together and looked around with a suspicious gaze to make sure no one else was on to his plan. And then, Kresk ran as fast as his cloven hooves could take him. It never occurred to him to teleport, or summon a mount. There was no time for thinking like that; for even now, Kresk was sure, and other cosmic entities were rushing to reach the young mage. Maybe they were angels trying to save her, or demons and devils looking for another powerful worshipper, but either way, they all wanted her. And of course, Kresk was totally and absolutely right.
And so, Kresk never noticed the rubble in front of him until he had tripped over it. He felt something crack in his pockets and realized the tubes filled with Titan paranoia had burst. Kresk felt a strange sensation dance around him as he got to his feet. A form of red energy appeared in front of him. And lo and behold, it was a shadow version of Kresk, all gray save for his red eyes. The original Kresk panicked, fearing that this version would be a complete paragon of order and good as opposed to the original. The clone looked at Kresk, Kresk looked back, and both said, at the exact same moment, "What in the Hells are you looking at?" This would lead to an argument, a battle, and then a friendship between the two that would culminate in singing Gilbert and Sullivan and then setting things on fire just to watch them burn. When the 'apocalypse' was undone (Kresk had forgotten all about Raven in the fun), he mourned the death of himself. And so, Kresk performed his own funeral, hosted by himself. Needless to say, it went on for three days as the Fire Demon glorified himself to no end.
And so things returned to normal for Raven and Kresk, but only for a little while. For then August came, and with it were nightmares, monsters, a realization of mortality, and an old photo that would forever alter the fate of all the multiverse in one way or another.