<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><strong>Jahl'Ra</strong></span></div><br/>Azazel relaxed in a single, fluid movement.  Though encased in a thick hide of blackened steel, one could sense the unfathomable physical strength flowing and loosening until all tension was erased from his being.  It was like watching a panther come to a sudden and complete rest after a long and arduous hunt.  The Children of Aurelis were not immortal by nature, and he had lived longer than all before him.  Thousands of years of memories were frozen within his skull for all eternity, and no other man but he had the sheer force of will required to preserver in spite of them.  Age was a strange thing.  The more years that passed by, the faster the next one seemed to fly past.<br/><br/>He allowed his son to speak his mind, but did not quite seem to be paying much attention.  It was not an intentional slight or insult.  It was merely a product of his state of being that he occasionally found himself ignoring the presence of lesser beings, even ones as important to him as Piren.  To the Demon King the words of others often paled in comparison to his own thoughts.  It was no more arrogant for him to forget his son than for an elephant to forget an ant in the grass.<br/><br/><em>"Yes, of course,"</em>he muttered absentmindedly, staring at the far wall behind his throne.  For a brief moment he pondered revealing what was actually behind it, but ultimately decided against it.  For now the matter was unimportant.  Better that Piren be ignorant of such things until absolutely necessary.<br/><br/>After a moment he snapped back to attention, tilting his head back towards the no-doubt perplexed boy.<em>"You will have all the reinforcements that you desire, including the backing of all your brothers and sisters.  I fear that I can no longer allow them to treat this as a game.  They are strong in body, but woefully incompetent where it counts.  I will trust you to whip them into shape.  Those that are disobedient and do not fall under your command, you will send to me.  I hope that I am understood."</em><br/><br/>Azazel clicked his teeth unpleasantly, gluttonously.  The Demon King gave direct orders only rarely, but when they were given they were to be followed without the slightest show of impudence or hesitation.  To do otherwise was wisely considered to be poor for one's health.<br/><br/>With a strange popping sound his body inverted upon itself, then reformed behind Piren's chair several feet taller than before.  Again he rested his clawed hands on the boy's shoulders, pressing the tip of one finger against his slender chin and forcing his head to crane upwards.  The mask's grin seemed to widen and curl upwards.<br/><br/><em>"I also have a special present for you, my child.  The first of many.  It is both an offering, and a task that only you can perform.  Well,"</em>he added, chuckling softly,<em>"I would do it myself, but I enjoy seeing you happy, my dearest son."</em><br/><br/><em>"To begin with, I will grant you three new lives to mold as you wish,"</em>he whispered, and as his words faded the granite throne evaporated into dust.  The stone platform upon which it once sat bubbled and churned like liquid, until at last it vomited up three massive tubes that shot straight upwards into the ceiling.  Each one glowed a phosphorescent green, and suspended in each was a different specimen.<br/><br/>The first looked like a solid black orb, devoid of surface texture.  It sapped both the light and the colour around it, corrupting both into an oily, ephemeral womb.  Every so often a pulse shuddered from within, and the briefest glimpse of some abominable form writhed against a pale red backdrop.  The egg of a Demon Lord, birthed from the union of a Greater Demon and a Witch powerful enough to tame it.<br/><br/>The second was far larger, about the size of a well-fed cow.  It was also an egg, though of a far different sort.  The outer shell was rugose and had the sort of unsavory, bloated texture of a horde of maggots.  Indeed, the interior of it seemed to be absolutely brimming with life.  Serpentine shapes struggled against one another in the dozens, each about the size of a man and all bound up together in a ball.<br/><br/><em>"An egg sac procured from a most unusual creature," </em>Azazel explained patiently.<em>"The Leviathan Worm of the Kraylick Mountains.  Many men died to retrieve one from the depths of her lair.  A remarkable find unlike any other."</em><br/><br/>The last tube carried a far more conventional sight, but was somehow more horrifying because of it.  A Dark Elf woman, clearly pregnant and fully aware of her surroundings, pounded against the side of the glass in vain.  Bubbles streamed from her open mouth, but it appeared that the fluid environment did not impede her ability to breathe.  She was bereft of clothing and all hair had been shorn from her head and body, but it seemed that the desire for escape trumped the need for modesty.<br/><br/>The King's hands tightened on Piren's shoulders.<em>"Our little secret.  Thus far you have been restricted to monsters.  I wish to see what you can do with beauty, my child.  I look forward to the results."</em><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>