Inferno, that corner of the vast infinitely cornered providence of dismay that is known to most as hell. Alezra Roxom is queen here and as this is the Hell so many fear the red head was to be seen as the ruler of Earths darker realms when all came down to the perception of but one. That abyssal domain where the unrightious go upon death is so abundant in souls and for each soul is hundreds of the creatures of the damned. If all was to gather in a single place one would see from their feet to the horriozon nothing but the horrors of society and of imagining. To linger in these forsaken lands is to be haunted day and night, hours and seconds, by the voices of anguish. Be it the hottest spot of the lake of fire, or the darkest corner reserved for the most traitorous wretch there was not a single place not touched by agony. And it is here, in this nightmare of nightmares that a visitor comes. A fools run for glory and valor, it would seem that over the ages as light began to dimm the need for bravado was becoming oh so clear.
Here was a bad place to target the Demon Queen, there was a reason Alezra tried to avoid much time here. It was something that was intoxicating to be around. All demons are prone to sin its only natural, in hell the greedy lust for power was like a all consuming rushing tide. There was no escaping it, getting around it, avoiding it. In hell Azrael had more power then she wanted and a part of her loved it. Blair believed in the premise of a warriors hounor if your enemy used abilities then she could, if they challenged her with just weapons then weapons were all she used. While never trying to under perform she would try to fight on equal ground. Pawns were wiped away like spring leaves to the raging embers of a wild fire. The knights she faced however were to be given a trace of dignity and respect. That nobility however was forsaken when surrounded by the smell of death and sulfer. How could she be level headed when souls more nummerable than she could count screamed for this arival to be their savior? How could she be rational when more demons then there were drops of blood to be spilled screamed for fresh ichor to stain those black rocks? The answer was she could not.
From a rift in the ruby and black skies fell a single trace of light, curiosity would damn hundreds the queen could see it. Demons would die in mass number for being fools. There end was well desserved, for foolish flesh is only good upon death. It was why so many on earth fell despite all that a mortal could obtain. The gods chose them to be rulers and yet they died like cattle and fled like sheep. The demons to soon perish were no greater then them, and as loving as the jade eyed demon was she cared not for the end of any of them. Their fall served only as eyes to observe what this angel could do. And what the angel did was predictable, briliant beautiful but common place.
What was seen was a sacred light, a orb of white that slayed all impure flesh before it. To be in its contact and live in this apocalyptic haven was simply to die. But the finness it was not their, the honor it was not to be found. It was heavens power play. A beautiful thing saying im not afraid, but then it did not know fear. Not yet atleast. Alezra knew the best answer was to keep darkness as the most likely shield tool to try and nullify as much of the light show as possible. She was going to play for blood not so much sacred fireworks. The queen took her time getting ready, and as she placed armor over her pale flesh she watched. Demons would be sent the angels way, they would die but that was the job of these hoards. As the angel walked through hell pushing past the psychological horror of being in this place and the attackers, or fell from them, Aza watched. Struggle or rise to the occasion the demon would try and observe as much as possible. Untill finaly she fealt it was time to address the beautiful intrusion.
A ring appears, along its edges dance orange and violet flames, the circle inside the ring seams a fortex as if leading into the darkest corners of space. From the portal one can hear the soft echoing whisper of the dead. It bores into the psyche speaking suicidal thoughts, how it would fair against the angel of course was questionable. Alezra stood before the angel, long red hair flowing in the wind, armor a black as night and red as rubies. "I am not patient and I am not kind....you can leave you perverse thing or you can die." In Inferno Azrael had alot less conviction and flair. Rather she gave a few seconds to comply, then in the snap of a finger a pillar of flame shot into the stormy skies. Its heat capable of making adamanitum glow white hot, its location directly beneath them. In a fight of angels there was no time for push comes to shove, simply shove.
Log in to comment