A Drazverse Tale: A Bedtime Story For Little Devils

"What's that, little one? A bedtime story? You can't sleep until you hear a tale? Oh, my little devil-child, you're adorable. Listen then to your mother.

Many millennia before our time, before our time's time, Satan decided to be God.

But of course, you know that, little one. You know as well as I do that Satan warred against the Most High and failed, falling to Hell. But do you know what really happened, my child?

Many facts and truths in the stories have been lost to the ages, however. Some "facts" are very over-exaggerated, or downright changed. Some "facts", my little one, are outright lies.

Listen to me, my child. Listen to your bedtime story, just as I listened to it when I was your age."

Many, many millennia ago, in times before times, God sat with all of his angels, his angels of wrath and peace and justice and hope, and said "I will make a world, and on that world, yea, I will place mankind." And so he did, and by his will and word, it was done.

The Board Meeting

The Board of Directors was caught in a deadlock situation. A secessionist state, called Freedom's Charter by its hard-bitten inhabitants, had somehow spawned almost overnight the month before.

It was causing the Societal Protectorate's Board of Directors no end of problems. The Board was still attempting to determine just how it had happened, but even more important was that it be ended.

And so they met, for the fourth time that month, in their dimly-lit conference room, with the various Directors seated around it, the walls lined with aides and functionaries of various levels.

The Board members had been deliberating for a little over four hours now, with no discernible progress.

One of the more junior functionaries started, almost imperceptibly, as his implant pinged, information scrolling up his vision.

Trained to rapidly assimilate such, the young man read and understood before stepping forward.

"We do have Marshall," offered the junior functionary. His voice was quiet, his tone a clear indicator of how well he knew the suggestion would be taken.

The Purleighan Realms: Dragonfall

Darsyx held him, but only just. Part of the God of Protection understood exactly what his friend was going through, and refused to bring his full strength to bear, but he worried that might have to.

Vrayl was not himself.

"WHO FUCKING DID THIS, NERMAL?! WHO!?" Vrayl lunged, and Darsyx slammed him to the tiled floor of Nermal's throne room. Vrayl let loose a strangled roar as Darsyx expertly wrapped one arm around his neck, locking it in.

The throne room shook as a pulse of Vrayl's power sent tiles flickering away like leaves in the wind. Even with Darsyx's arm around his throat, Vrayl still dragged himself back to his feet, another step closer. "SHE'S DEAD, NERMAL. MY TENLEE IS DEAD!"

"Vrayl," interjected Darsyx, trying not to snarl. "You need to calm down. Dont make me end you. Please."

Darsyx moved to tighten the choke, but Vrayl spun and dropped, neatly slipping free of the choke.

He whirled, claws alight with divine energy, the spectral form of his true self crackling around him. "WHO KILLED HER, NERMAL?! WHO FUCKING KILLED HER?! I TRIED TO BRING HER BACK, NERMAL. I TRIED TO BRING HER BACK.