#(and potentially aggressive and destructive if not trained properly. and god knows soul is not)

[sainteclectic]

oh and btw soul's dog leg is specifically a livestock guardian dog. he protects the other two, loyally watching over them and saving them from danger. intimidating yet caring, he sees heart and mind as both his flock and the predators he needs to protect them from.

[olboypacman]

3. A Story to Tell (Trigon, the Benevolent)

A/N: This one’s going to be a bit of a divergence. It’s background on this version of Trigon. Still don’t own Teen Titans. Or Batman. Or Doctor Fate. Or Zatanna.

“Mr. Nelson!” a secretary calls out.

The older gentleman, answering the call makes his to the receptionist’s area. “I imagine he’s ready for me?”

“Yes sir! Mr. Wayne will see you now.”

Taking that as his cue he makes his way around the reception’s area to the automatic glass doors. Just before they part for him he sees in white bold lettering:

BRUCE WAYNE

OWNER & CHAIRMAN OF THE BORAD

OF WAYNE ENTERPRISES, INC.

Passing the threshold, he makes his way toward the ordinate, expansive desk made of some indiscriminate wood. Behind the desk he sees Bruce Wayne, alter ego of the Batman, leaning back into a large black leather chair. He’s wrapped in a black suit some with a white shirt and a black tie. Likely of some designer ‘s or another’s brand. Tailored exactly for him I bet.

Bruce has his eyes trained intently on a dark-haired woman leisurely sitting on the desk, who’s speaking to him. She’s wearing a dark blue suit jacket with a similarly colored pencil skirt. Her look his completed with nylon stockings and black flats.

“Kent.” Bruce says now training his eyes to The Sorcerer Supreme.

Upon acknowledging their new guest, the woman turns to face Kent. Zatanna.

“Oh Zatanna, I didn’t expect you to be here.”

“That makes two of us.” Say Bruce, cracking a smirk.

“Oh, shut up!” She responds to Bruce as she leaves the perch of the desk to greet Kent Nelson properly. “Call me curious. I wanted to know what exactly we could be dealing with.”

“Well, we might not be having to deal with anything.” Says Kent.

“How can you say that!? This is Trigon, the Terrible we’re dealing with! I don’t…”

“Zee,” Bruce interjects, “We’re not here to argue, Kent just tell us what we need to know. Just how powerful are they?”

“Well I guess I’ll start with the weakest of the bunch, though to call Arella Roth weak would be gross underestimation of her abilities.”

“She’s just a human, right?” Asks Zatanna.

“Yes, though her proficiency for the arcane leaves me questioning her lineage. According to Trigon, who was her first instructor, she took to the mystical arts faster than any being he’s ever seen.”

“Trigon taught Arella?” Inquired Bruce.

“Well, yes. He mated her and as powerful as Trigon is even he can’t be everywhere at once to protect his love and his progeny.”

“Love? Don’t make me laugh!” Zatanna said indignantly. “Demons aren’t capable of love.”

You’d be wrong I’m afraid, my dear.

“You’d be surprised what love can do.” He looks to both Bruce and Zatanna knowingly. “Anyway, Trigon had mostly taught Arella spells and magics designed to protect herself from the members of The Church of Blood. While not the most mystically inclined of people, outside of the Bloods of course, they would be a handful for any regular human. But her second teacher taught her most of what she knows now. Her second instructor was none other than last high priestess of Azarath, Azar.”

“Hmm, so that’s where he took her after she left my protection.” Says Bruce.

“That would be correct. Under Azar’s tutelage Arella developed into quite the little sorceress, I’d she can rival your abilities.” He finishes, gesturing to Zatanna.

“OK,” says Bruce, “tell me about Raven.”

“Ah, the apple of her father’s eye that one. Gods help anyone foolish enough to threaten her. The one even more fool hardy to lay a hand on her,” Kent shutters, “I wouldn’t wish such fate on the worst of people. Raven’s curse is her gift. Much of her abilities are tied to her soul-self and/or her emotions, and her level of calmness or emotional distress can dampen or amplify her already potent abilities. Her soul-self, as its name implies the physical manifestation of her soul. Once manifested it can appear physically as a black raven in an energetic state, incredibly cold to the touch. It can also project itself from her body as a blast of dark light, she can use it for short range teleportation, shield generation for herself or others, flight/levitation, and she can completely separate the soul-self from her physical body for as using it for astral projection, possession and for scouting if necessary. I’ve also seen it encompass objects as large as an eighteen-wheeler yet concentrated enough to cover a penny. Furthermore, she’s an empath, able to sense and consume the emotions of others. Plus, she’s got a healing factor, expected of one of demonic heritage and she’s also able to heal others by taking a bit of the damage unto herself. I currently don’t know the limit to her healing or any of her abilities for that matter. Not too mention her competence has a sorceress, she has the potential to surpass her mother. Azar even. She may even surpass Trigon one day.”

“I shutter to think of two demons that powerful running around.” Said Zatanna.

“Empathy…” Mutters Bruce. “Isn’t that a genetic trait? An Azarathian trait?” he inquires.

“Exactly. Which is another reason why I’m skeptical of Arella’s parentage. To build on your point Bruce, empathy is an Azarathian genetic trait passed on maternally most of the time.” Answers Kent.

“Hmm… Tell me about Trigon. What is he exactly?”

“A simple yet, complicated answer. Let me preface by telling you: the path to hell is paved with good intentions. Trigon was once an Azarathian who’s name has been lost to history. He was the progeny of an Azarathian man and the Arch Demoness Lilith, the Impious.”

“Self-proclaimed goddess of lust and seduction, I’m familiar.” Says Zatanna.

“Yes, well that aside, the first Azarathians* had the arrogant notion that they can purge all the negative emotions from themselves. Being a pacifist society, certain emotions can be interpreted as aggressive. Anger, hatred, jealousy, etc. were practically thought of as atrocities among the ancient culture.”

“But it’s impossible to permanently remove emotions from yourself!” Cried Zatanna.

“A lesson ancient Azarathians learned the hard way.”

“Where did the man that became Trigon play into all of this?” Asked Bruce.

“He volunteered to be the vessel where all the purged emotions would be contained. And when emotion is given physical form it basically becomes energy, in this case of negative sepctrum. It also exacerbated the situation that those Azarathians are as mystically inclined as they are today. It was said that when all the negative emotions where given corporal from, it resembled a great roaring inferno. Suffice to say, when the unnamed Azarathian was bestowed the emotions it amplified his already demonic heritage. It tore his physical body apart in a hellish firestorm. His skin, bones, muscle and sinew became atomized dust scattering to the winds. But, oddly enough where his body once was, that inferno still raged on. The Azarathians acted quickly though, banishing the burning hatred personified to a dimension between not exactly this one, but not the next either. It was an infinitely dark and abyssal dimension Trigon has since claimed as his own.”

“Do you know how he eventually gained the physical form he has today.” Inquired Zatanna.

“That I’m not sure. I theorize that the soul of the nameless Azarathian remained bound to the personified flaming emotions when they were ejected from Azarath. I’d imagine there was a period where eventually the soul regained sentience and using it’s demonic power and the magically infused influence of thousands of Azarathians to gain or create a physical form.”

“How powerful is he?” Requested Bruce.

“Incredibly.” Kent simply responds. “Raven inherited his healing factor and like I said I don’t know the limits of hers. He has a soul-self much like Raven’s, but it’s not hindered by his emotions. Though carrying much of the same abilities as Raven's, Trigon's soul-self manifests itself in the form of a serpent when released from his body. It can be deathly black like Raven’s and cold as the most frigid of tundra; to as blue and hot as the hottest stars in the universe. It can amplify gravity in a given amount of space, can manifest solidly as any object Trigon desires and can even project copies of other beings, though the copies themselves are under Trigon's control. The soul-self can also connect any two points in existence, making interdimensional travel child’s play. Also, much like Raven's it can envelop objects, however Trigon's has the potential to envelop in his own words ‘anything my senses can encompass’, leaving its potential for destruction completely up to the imagination. And let’s not forget the mystical influence of the emotions that led to his origins. That left him with enough magically capcity to make the spirt of Nabu’s brow sweat.”

“Do you know type of spells he prefers?” Zatanna asks quietly.

“He prefers his own demonic power, but I’ve known him to use spells that summon familiars and pyro- kinetic spells.”

“Any weaknesses?” Requests Bruce.

“Being a demon, he’s subject to spells, objects and weapons designed to counter-act his kind. But unless created by an incredibly powerful sorceress or sorcerer, I doubt those would slow him down for long.”

“Would you be able to stop him if it came down to it?” Asked Zatanna.

“I wouldn’t,” said Kent. “Nabu has been bound to much more powerful sorcerers than me, and at those times only managed to fight him to a standstill. And at no great consequence to my far-flung predecessors. Trigon’s the main reason why it was decided a lord of order such as Nabu was commissioned to take action.”

Bruce and Zatanna stare ahead at nothing, dumbfounded by this info dump.

Breaking the stupor, Bruce asks, “What I don’t get is what caused him to abandon his destructive ways?”

“It’s like I said Bruce, you’d be surprised what love can do.” Kent answers.

“You don’t mean, Arella do you? I heard he stopped conquering centuries ago you don’t mean…”

“He does love Arella, no doubt. But it wasn’t her who changed him.” Kent stands reaching inside his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. He throws it on the desk. He takes his leave, heading toward the automatic glass doors of the office. “Bruce, Zatanna, you have my best,” he waves lazily as the doors open.

On the desk sits the photo, the image of a woman. Thought that’s not quite right. It’s a picture of a painting of young woman. A woman that looks scarily similar to Arella…

Check out this and my other writings at: https://www.fanfiction.net/~olboypacman