Draiss raised an eyebrow, before shaking his head and smiling. "Not important, like why I thought it necessary to butcher somewhere between ten and fifteen thousand orcs for a reason that turned out to be completely wrong? Never mind their god thanked me for it, complimenting me for thinning out the weaklings, even if I did nearly drive them into extinction."<br/><br/>He nevertheless resumed his story, picking up right after the explosion, telling her what he could remember of dying, of burning a plane to test his power, how he had shredded his own mind in an attempt to make the pain of ascending as he had stop. How he had come to his senses, after nearly three hundred years of destruction only to find several gods had come in, having sensed his magical and divine signature, and found him as the only survivor on the dead plane. He sighed, and stopped again, taking another drink, before grinning at his storytelling. "Proof, I am afraid, that the no good spoony bards have corrupted me. I can tell a story almost as well as I can weave magic. Any questions, or shall I continue?"