Shortly after a particularly fierce sandstorm ripped through Hamsah Mu'tazz, an old beggar happened upon the score of a lifetime.

Happened upon meaning broke his toe stumbling over, but happened upon nonetheless, a certain object, buried almost completely in the sands.

He chose to dig the object up, either to smash it in righteous punishment or out of agonized curiosity, and discovered it was a box.

Boxes are wonderful things. Especially wonderful in a world of gods and magic, where demigods might happen to drop a Box of Mind Control Harem Macguffins and Lots of Diamonds. Or it could just be a box containing nothing but an intent to break toes.

This box, however, suggested itself to be more of the former (though clearly having possessed some of the latter, at least a moment ago), given that it was bound in chains, with arcane runes pulsing over every surface like a heartbeat.

Now, despite the intrepid beggar's pain, he knew better than to smash this particular box, righteous punishment or not, because there was of course a third option, that the box contained some sort of Death or Worse. Likely worse.

But a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, so he would of course trade said box in the city for a few heavy gold coins and a few heavier drinks.

But heavier still was the hand of fate, as one of the chains broke as he hefted the box onto his shoulder.

Then another, and another. Soon the box stood naked, a burnt emblem of three snakes entwined with lightning bolts etching itself into the wood.

The beggar knew that the "or worse" was coming for him, so he turned and ran as fast as his broken toe would carry him.

The air stilled, the skies turned black, and Or Worse broke free of the box.

Heavenly lightning began bombarding the area. A feeble attempt, too little and too late, as the demon god of destruction rose.

Zurcon flooded the world with his presence, his death knights coming to his call, the unholy sword appearing in his grip. Even a lonely priestess came to kneel at his feet.

He cast his gaze to the land.

The demon god of destruction cast his gaze to the land and he despaired.

The world he had left was full of conflict, the proud elves were ripe for slaughter, and the gods ruled above with cold eyes and a colder fist.

But this world was a shadow. A cold, barren place, infected with rot. The ranks of the guilds nearly empty, the soil dry where it was once ever soaked in blood. The air was still, the tower's gates stood closed, and even Charon had left his eternal duty.

The demon had raged and burned for so very, very long, hungering to escape and sow destruction through the world. But now that hunger turned to ash in his fanged mouth.

What joy would destroying this decayed place be? This would not feed his appetite, stomping upon a rotten apple.

Zurcon seethed and agonized in frustration. He, destruction incarnate, free of his prison, had nothing that would bring him the feeling he sought, his purpose in being.

"No..." he thought, a plan forming in the screaming madness of a demon god's mind, "This is not the end. Destruction shall rage across this land. The flames of chaos shall burn away this...disease."

Three hearts appeared in the demon's hand. Three huge, black veined, madly beating hearts. He held the essence of his demonic vitality in his hands, and crushed the first.

An ocean of blood seeped into the sands, at first corrupting it deeply, but dispersing just as quickly, the essence spreading out to fill the entirety of the land.

The second he sliced open with the unholy sword, its blood spraying into the heavens. The home of the gods too was filled with the tremendous demonic vitality, and gods felt their strength filled to overflowing.

The last was plunged deeply into the body of our nearly forgotten beggar, having long since gone mad.

The demon god began to wither, his sacrifice spent. Vitality would return to this world. It would be cruel, it would be chaotic, but it would be LIFE.

He whispered unto the old beggar, to his knights and to his priestess.

"Go forth and proclaim my power. When the wars rage and the seas run as blood, and chaos rules the land, you will know that I am satisfied.

The beggar's life would mean something, now. A truly the score of a lifetime.