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For centuries, the bottom of the Abyss has been shrouded in mystery, fear, and superstition. Some say it’s a hostile place inhabited by the strangest of creatures known to man. Others believe it to be a gateway, a portal into a realm much darker than mankind’s nightmares. The only truth, as far as humanity’s great empires were concerned, was that the Abyss served as the ideal prison for all manner of scum and villainy. For centuries the Abyss has welcomed those deemed sinful into its dark warmth, and for centuries the Abyss has stood firm beneath the world of Altfare.

Centuries-worth of stability and imprisonment were undone in a single night, when the world above shook, and the great Catastrophe engulfed the land. Those few and brave human guardians poached around the outskirts of the Abyss’ prisons had long since fled; or they were dead. There are those, many, who would seek out the chance of escape. And so, the Catastrophe served as their salvation. Prisons were torn asunder, cages were blown apart, and inmates turned tail, turned against each other, or turned towards the surface.

The price of freedom was steep after all, and vengeance against their human prosecutors was rampant, infectious like a drug. Even as long hours passed into forever-for no one truly knew the passage of time in the Abyss-the chaos of prison riots and breakouts still swept up many. Some of the violence was dying down, the murky depths and underground caverns slowly being stilled by silence. But not many had the gall or common sense to unite when each felt entitled to their own revenge and bloodlust.

Even now, the Abyss hosted conflicting parties with a host of stragglers picking at what they could. With none of their human oppressors to govern them, no law was in place to follow. A true no man’s land was what the Abyss had become, though rumor of certain sects of prison guards passed wind to the inmates. For some reason or another, a large grouping of werewolves sought to keep back the would-be prisoners, slaughtering any who dared to try and reach the surface. To what ends they work from, nobody knows, be it loyalty to humans or something more.

No one truly knew what the Catastrophe was, recent as it happened. Humanity may have just been doomed to extinction right above them. The only way of ever finding out was to escape to the surface and see for themselves. For those who seriously considered the task, the sect of werewolf prison guards was the first obstacle to overcome. Thus forth began the fated, perhaps even unholy, meeting of different sources, each coming to the largest prison’s “lagoon”. Murk, rock, and depth encompassed the poor excuse of a pool, but word has passed there were scattered weapons and other supplies to ransack from the night’s outbreak.

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Azrael, in human form of all things, made his way through the murky and dimly lit stone tunnels that served as the halls of his ancient prison. He had heard the rumors same as everyone else. Rumors of upheavals on the surface. Of a catastrophe that caused humanities seemingly endless vigil over this place to falter, then fail, leaving the entrance wide open for the taking. Well... almost wide open. There were still the mutts to worry about of course. Normally he wouldn't be so concerned, but his exile from heaven had forced him to pay more attention than ever to the risks he took. Where before he could simply rely upon the celestial engines from which he was spawned to keep him so far beyond mortal kin that their strongest warrior was nothing more than a buzzing gnat when compared to his might, now he had to pick his fights more carefully. Now he-paradoxically-could be slain, even by lowly creatures such as werewolves.

Walking along, his footsteps the only sound to be heard over the din of drips and other natural noises one might expect to find in a subterranean system, the fallen seraphim of death ran his hands along the course cavern walls, as he had done many times before, wishing it was the warm flesh of his brethren's beloved pets he was caressing with the sweet kiss of death instead of lifeless stone. He sighed, reminding himself to be patient. His vengeance would come in time if he was careful, but not before he got out of here. And for that to happen the werewolves-those ferocious lupine creatures who had, for some incomprehensible reason, taken upon themselves the momentous task of guarding the entrance to the Abyss-had to be disposed of. The only question was how. There were his powers, of course, and his Quintessence, but would they be enough? He doubted it. From what he'd heard there'd been quite a few of them patrolling the area. More than he was capable of handling by himself, certainly. Stealth could work, perhaps, but he had never been too skilled in that. If anything he'd probably manage to take down one, maybe two guards at most, but not before alerting the rest to his presence.

Well, if his goals could not be achieved through stealth or direct hand-to-hand combat, then how would he see them done? The question was one that burned at the back of his mind like a coal with no means of extinguishment, yet it was one he was still required to solve. If he was to escape this place that is. Perhaps an ally would be of use? Although that begged the question of whom. While he had been stuck down here for gods knew how many millennia, he hadn't exactly gone out of his way to make friends or communicate with his fellow inmates. Something that was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it meant that when the riots started no one was familiar enough to remember his face, and thus incapable of singling him out as a target, and a curse because it meant he didn't have anyone on whom he could rely for support. Halting mid-stride, Azrael moved off into the shadows of a nearby alcove. Secluding himself within its umbral depths he began to think over his plan of attack while waiting for someone, anyone really, to pass by.

If he could not find any allies upon which to call, then perhaps he could wait for one to would wander by.

Well, shi- no. It was rude to curse, even in one's own thoughts. The world would have to settle for her disgruntled groan as she watched all her catalogued minions run frantically about amidst the chaos. Though; even she ditched her sect of bottom feeders without hesitation when it became clear that the internal structure of the Abyss had failed, and anarchy was springing to life before her eyes. There was no way she would be able to find anyone in this hell hole now; but there was at least a means of possible escape. It wouldn't take the vampire long to gather her things. A bit dusty over the years; but she had saved a few supplies she had stashed away long ago upon her arrival. No weapons, but her inventory would once again fill with familiar equipment. Too familiar, in the case of her umbrella. Slight hesitation as she touched the last gift from her lover for the first time, longer than she cared to admit. Its vibrant color of pink and white still fresh only infuriating her; that she had failed to do the one thing she had come to in the first place.

She could smell just how close those blind lapdogs were, waiting for any who went too far. A disgusting breed to be sure, but not one she could easily stroll past. Even if she could escape into her shadow form; being assigned to guard against a place such as this and in such numbers probably meant that they would be well prepared for more than anything they even had a small glimmer of encountering. Or she could get lucky; but it wouldn't be anything but a slaughter for her if she ended up having to face those numbers alone. But it seemed she wasn't alone, was she. Creeping through the tunnels she had discovered the presence of another. A man; at least, one not screaming around uselessly like her collection of peasants she ruled before today. That, at least, showed promise in him; of maybe getting past the dogs ahead. Or should worse come, a new chew toy for them as she'd make her escape. Hiding away her trinkets as she watched the man settle off to the side. Clearly as stumped as she was; which was a good sign towards working together.

Making her way though The Lagoon, she'd start with her best foot forward. He looked human enough, hoping her Blood Calling Charm would at least put things into her favor without too much effort. Though; what a true human would be doing down here and not on the other side of those mutts was beyond her. "I don't suppose you have an easy way past those dogs, do you." Raula halted just out of she estimated to be the man's reach; staring him down mercilessly. Though, was other wise in a somewhat of a friendly tone. "Neither do I, but perhaps we both stand a chance- Or perhaps I'm wrong and you're just waiting to lie down in front of them while they stuff you with treats? Leashing you back in your cage." She had to admit; that even if the man would agree to join her, they probably still wouldn't have enough of anything on their side. But down here she learned she'd have to take what she could get, and if that meant it was just the two of them; well, she could only hope he could fend them off alone better than he appeared to be able to. For his sake.

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"HRRRAAAAAAGH!"

A mighty howl boomed through the abyssal murk as a lone werewolf warrior was punched straight in the face by a hard, seething, fist. Its body was thrown straight back as it collided within a stone wall, breaking right through it with rock and debris flying everywhere. Down the opposite corner, a pack of these human-wolf monsters were rushing towards the scene of the crime. Everything was going wrong down here, just as much as what was going up on the surface level. Now the prisoners were escaping and they were seriously outmanned, especially for the herculean task that they were coming up against.

The werewolves turned the corner, each howling and snarling at one another to take position with their swords, spears and shields at the ready. They faced a pitch-black hallway, one which they could barely see just a few meters into to. They couldn't see their target, but they could certainly hear it. Seething, nightmarish growls echoed in the darkness alongside thunderous stomping as the prisoner slowly made its way towards their position. The werewolves bared their fangs, each gripping onto their weaponry as hard as they could. They were visibly fearful and rightfully so.

Suddenly a large spear-shaped boulder came rushing out from the darkness. The wolves had barely enough time to react as two of the soldiers were tossed back into the same wall their comrade collided with just seconds ago. The guards looked back in horror as they witnessed half of their squad taken out in merely an instant.

"GRAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Suddenly a burning fist rushed towards the closest guard. It had barely time to react before it found its body colliding with the floor and its head spitting open from the impact. The last werewolf alive would then glance upon the full might of what it was going up against. It was a huge female fire oni - named in the official prison records as "Jukati-Oni" - a huge, dark skinned, monster of a being, that nearly dwarfed the guard's size thanks to her height and huge bulging muscles. The werewolf knew that it had no chance in hell against such a monstrous being, especially as the oni looked at it with rage burning in her eyes. And yet, with the world falling around it, what did it matter if it tried to escape? Would it be caught by the raging demon? Would it be caught by another terrifying prisoner within the abyss? Or would it actually escape, only to face the destruction wrought upon the surface?

It's choice?

With a bloodcurdling howl, the werewolf lunged towards the great oni with a spark of seemingly newfound courage. But it would only be in vain, for the next moment it found its neck being squeezed and several feet in the air. It whimpered and yelped, trying to claw itself off from death's inevitable door, but her grip was just too strong. After all, with the amount of strength that she seemed to hold back, it would be easy for her to snap its neck in an instant. Jukati glared at her former warden as her grip tightened by the second.

"You damn wardens are startin' to really piss me off!" she growled infernally, "I finally escape my cell and was expecting a challenge coming from you lot. But ya'll've proven yourselves to be nothin' but a bunch of miserable lap dogs!"

With that, she slammed the helpless guard face-first against the wall next to her, smashing its skull in. As the oni let go, the limp corpse dropped the the floor in a bloody mess. The werewolf's face was nearly unrecognizable at this point as it sighed its last breath. Jukatai sighed annoyedly as she proceeded forward through the wall she created, popping her into another part of the prison block. She had indeed heard of the events that had taken place outside, yet had not a clue as to why and what was going on. All she knew was it that allowed her, as well as the rest of the inmates here, to escape their prison and make their way back to the surface world. For her, it was about damn time. She had unfinished business to take care up there...

Especially with mankind.

But first, Jukati must escape the Abyss alive. This, however, shouldn't be much of a problem for an oni like her. Eventually she was able to leave the winding hallways and found herself in a large space known as the Lagoon. She had heard about this place from several rogue prisoners earlier, with word having said that this place had weapons and other useful supplies for them to loot. It would be foolish to leave this place without stocking up on a few supplies, or without grabbing a weapon of one's choice. The oni could see several figures in the distance, however she couldn't quite tell as to who they were. Nor did she care for that matter.

For now, Jukati needs a weapon. While her bare hands alone make her a powerful combatant, there was one particular weapon in particular that she missed. If she could find one here, she would be more than ready to face whatever guarded the entrance of the Abyss and beyond. And so she proceeded to wade through the shallow murky waters, while scouring the ground for her quarry.

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Azrael crossed his arms as he leaned back against the rock and examined the woman from the shadows of his alcove, a bit surprised at just how little time it had taken for someone to wander by. Then again, given the circumstances, this was to be expected. No one had chosen to stay here, except for the mutts of course, so naturally the other inmates would be making their way to the Lagoon.

It was the only way out after all.

"The dogs are no friends of mine," he replied, shifting his attention away from his thoughts and back onto the woman. "I hate them almost as much as I do this place."

He gestures to the surrounding rock to emphasize his point.

"So you are not wrong in your original assumption. As much as it pains me to admit it, I too do not have a means of getting past the wolves, hence why I am standing here. But if you think the two of us can succeed where others have no doubt failed, then I will not refuse your offer."

Pushing himself off the rock, Azrael stepped out of the shadows and into the dim light of the tunnel, satisfied with how his plan was going so far.

"Before we put this idea of yours to the test, however, I would know your name. If not for courtesies sake, then at least so I may know what to put on your grave should the worst come to pass."

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Rafiq understood, Rafiq understood what the shaking and chaos and long silence meant. Rafiq understood what it meant for chains to break, for bars to bend, Rafiq understood what came next. This was the chance for freedom, the chance for freedom that everyone was waiting for, the chance for freedom that Rafiq had been waiting for. So they escaped their cell, they wandered the lagoons to search for that which could help them escape. They found many things they needed, they also found many things they didn't need. A sack was a good start, they would use that to carry around that which they found. Rafiq had found rusty swords and daggers, these were of little use to Rafiq but they could always be traded over to the next desperate inmate looking for a weapon. Rafiq understood, that one rat's trash was another's treasure, so they always kept that which they found. It was easy to carry regardless, people underestimated the value of a utility magic when it came to surviving within the Abyss.

Rumors were aplenty of there being weapons in this particular lagoon, and while Rafiq had no use for such violent things, they could always sell these weapons or trade them away to other prisoners. Perhaps if Rafiq gathered enough weapons, they could build up a gang to protect them, supplying them weapons in exchange for protection. Yes yes, this was a good plan, a very good plan on Rafiq's part. And so they ventured forth into the lagoon, a lonely and dreary place, a very damp place. It reminded Rafiq of home in some senses, much of the Abyss did. Rafiq still preferred above ground, humans were much more fun than all this prison.

Eventually Rafiq did stumble across something interesting, a trail of broken werewolves with swords and spears. Rafiq made sure to pick them up and stuff them in their sack, good for selling later, very good, but they also made sure to follow this trail to see where it lead. or more specifically, who it led to. Soon enough they found who they were looking for, a rather large and muscular oni who looked very very angry, yes very angry indeed. Rafiq scurried over, making sure to purposefully make noise so that they didn't think Rafiq was sneaking up on them, before slowing to a walk beside them. "Greetings friend, greetings! I see you too have freed yourself from your shackles, it looks like you've made quite the mess around here. You must be quite strong to have taken on so many of the guards, all by yourself no less!" They said to Jukati, slinging their sack over their shoulder as they looked up to the much taller oni. Rafiq themselves was only 4 foot even in the end, so they found themselves looking up at most people.

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As the fire oni searched for a suitable weapon, she would hear the distinct sounds of something patting behind her followed by sa greeting. Jukati stopped as she perked her head, before slowly looking back to see whoever dared to approach her. Alas, it was not another werewolf guard, rather it took the shape of something smaller. It was one of those miserable rat-people, or what the others called a "Ratatoskr". She recalled a small bandit gang of these guys that would occasionally raid her village in the dead of night, mostly stealing supplies and sometimes a weapon or two. They were usually harmless overall, but they sure became quite a pain in the ass to deal with. The onis could easily crush them with their bare hands if it wasn't for the fact that they were quite agile and speedy to catch in the first place.

She growled at the tiny thing as she turned to face this so-called thief.

"Oi." she grunted loudly, "Waddya want, rat-man?"

The rat-person squeaked back, referring to how she too had escaped and mentioned the pile of corpses the oni had left in her wake. So far it didn't say anything about wanting to steal from her, and even then if it attempted to do so it would be terribly disappointed. Of course, the oni initially seemed to suspect this naive rat was simply sweet talking her, as it complemented on her strength to face off against so many guards. Yet seeing how it made its presence known way before hand - which is something what normal rat-people wouldn't make much of - perhaps it wasn't here to even try and steal from her in the first place.

For now at least.

Jukati grunted as she crossed her arms. "Yer' lucky that you weren't in my way." she bluntly expressed as she turned to flip open a large rock, "I wudda've squashed you without hesitation, whether ya were a guard or not."

Underneath the rock were two coal-dusted bandage wraps that survived the fall of debris prior. Picking them up, she proceeded to wrap them around her scarred muscular forearms.

"Now waddya want?" she asked again while wrapping her right arm.

"I would ask the same of the scavenger pilfering my stock." A melodious voice, deep and rich with a tone whose curiousity could not mask the ire she expressed watching the rat from a rock above them. Perched primly with legs crossed, the drow eyed the being whose sack overflowed with every interesting scrap it had found as it traipsed along towards the Lagoon of promised riches. She held no doubt it was as keen a scavenger as it was an appraiser of value, talents she lauded in her own rats only to now hold in disdain. A feeling she had to actively supress as the weight of the situation reminded herself the way of things had changed.

Not a spider had come down from the surface to lower her a silk wrapped good purloined from human hands, and despite hours of beseeching her goddess for asnwers and offering the souls of those unfortunate few to find themselves at her complete mercy, she was decidedly mum about matters outside the Abyss. Willowa loathed the turning of fortunes going on, as now the prisoners were free to claim their own fortunes without being beholden to her. And while the slaugter of inmates trampling oppressor and fellow convict alike did send chills down her spine, a woman had to have her priosities straight.

Naturally her eyes shifted to the Oni and she favored it with a smirk before leaping from her perch. Concealed by her sitting figure was a piton rammed into the stone and what was initually a freefall slowed as a rope wound around her artfully armored arm snapped taut, leaving her to drop the final few feet with the poise her people were known for.

"You wouldn't be trying to sell your trash to this warrior, would you, ratling? She has no need of such rusted toothpicks. Alas, I have no worthy club to offer, but I have something even more useful she may enjoy." The Drow said grandly, sweeping aside her coat and plucking free a vial from an inner loop that shined an electric blue as it sloshed against the cork stopper. "A personal concoction of mine that shall grant the imbiber an increase in size and strength. Imagine yourself, great Oni of Flame and Fist, three times your size!"

"All that I, willowa Tornas, require in exchange for the might to crush your rivals as but ants under hell...is a few strands of your hair dipped in but a meager quantity of oni blood. A fairer offer you shall never find, certainly not here in the Abyss or from the wolves further beyond."

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Rafiq nodded vigorously, keeping pace with the oni easily as she flipped over rocks and debris in search of... something. She called them rat-man, bringing to light a rather crucial fact. "Ah, I haven't introduced myself! So rude, so rude, so terribly rude. I am Rafiq, the most famous of thieves on the surface! It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances oni woman who's name I do not know!" They swiftly moved to Jukati's other side as she flipped over a large boulder, picking up what looked to be the tip of a spear and shoving it into their sack.

"What do I want? Well, I very much want to know your name, would be quite nice. Quite nice, quite nice, but more importantly! I want to work with you, you seem like someone who could always use a friend!" They moved in front of Jukati now, an excited look in their narrowed eyes as they motioned wildly with their arms. "It would be very beneficial for the both of us, beneficial, good! You are strong, can fight many without breaking sweat! But you are big as well, it would be difficult to squeeze through cell bars or small windows for you! That is where I come in, Rafiq is very good at squeezing into tight spaces. I am also quiet, I am good at sneaking around and stealing. This sounds like mutually beneficial, beneficial, good, partnership yes?" Rafiq peered at Jukata, hoping they were getting through to her. These oni, they were sometimes so very stubborn. It was hard to make deals with them, harder still to get away from an angry one.

And then, the drow showed up. One couldn't see it under their mask, but Rafiq's face grew weary as soon as the drow showed up. "I do not see your name, name, title, upon that which I take. Only dead fools and dogs owned these, and now the grave owns them. As they say in human culture, finders keepers, losers weepers. Losers, failures, worms." Rafiq shot back as Willowa tried to claim everything here was hers. "Regardless, I do not sell garbage to oni woman. I sell my talents, talents, abilities." And here comes the sales pitch. Now listen, Rafiq didn't have anything against drow personally. But negotiating with them was always a pain, they were a greedy people who would work to wring every copper they could out of you. But Rafiq had experience negotiating with drow, many a painting had been sold to a drow after it had been stolen.

"Hold Willow of Tornas!" They called out, scurrying over to the drow and closely inspecting the concoction. "I trust you are not trying to play the oni for the fool, this potion is certainly authentic upon first glance, but you tell us so little of it! For how long does it last, does it have side effects, how much stronger does it make you? To be big is a boon certainly, but it sounds too good to be true. True, bona fide, authentic." Rafiq narrowed their eyes at the drow, backing away towards Jukata and standing in front of her with arms crossed. "And if there is one thing I have learned in life, it is that if something sounds too good, good, nice, alright, to be true. It usually is."

>.> ... "Quite the noisy day-nya; isn't it~? So much prey running wildly about hardly makes it worth it. But at least it was fun for a few moments~ Right~?" The last conscious victim in a room full of werewolves and prisoners alike whimpered; unable to open its jaw enough for any begging words. They all bore the marks of the feline's conquest. Bleeding and strewn about as she toyed with the last of the werewolves in this particular tunnel. "Well, nya~ I suppose this means I can take my leave? If you're the best you lot have to offer, I'm surprised there isn't more of the prisoners trying to get out."

Clawing the grasp of death into the poor wolf, Noire trotted off with a spring in her step further up the caverns. Coming into the area locally known as the Lagoon, she was pleasantly surprised to find that there actually was more prisoners trying to get out; or at least between her and the exit. Quite a few actually, as she made a perch for herself as she stared off at the group. Curious if she should take them out too, or if she should just move on past and ignore them. They did have rat in the mix that made them awful fun to play with, but there was also the other two on the other end of the room. Deciding to just wait to see how everything develops before she intervened.

"You are the grandson of Emperor Velo the 18th, and the child of Emperor Velo the 25th. Never before in the history of the empire has two such potent bloodlines connected into you. Their heir. The one best suited to convey the words of an empire, and to rule undaunted. May your reign last for a hundred years."

Emperor Velo the 27th had long surpassed the quaint notion of 'a hundred years.' He had even surpassed the lukewarm idea of a thousand. Two thousand was so far beneath him that he hadn't even bothered to celebrate it. Was it three thousand years? Or was it ten thousand now? He only knew with a certainty that he had grown bored of counting, and calculating the days was meaningless in the Abyss, where the days mingled together in such a way that one could easily drag a full week together. Wait... What was he even doing? He couldn't even be bothered to remember that.

_{"Stop! Stop hurtings me!"}
Oh right. At that very moment the emperor was standing over some gremlin or another. Some warlord from a kingdom he had never heard of. Claiming to have tried to invade the Abyss and make it his own or something of the like. Must have been a long time ago, as the gremlin was now practically ancient. Withered white hair, wrinkles beyond count. How disgusting aging was as a concept. How weak it made others. Why would you need such a thing? That was why the emperor had rejected that weakness. He had thrown the very concept of aging away. He was a true undying immortal. Because as the young looking man stared down at the feeble old conqueror... He felt no remorse as the heel of his Right Hand pressed down on that skull. A little more pressure and it could pop.

"And why should I?" Velo said. His words were buried in boredom. So unamused by any possible answer that he couldn't even sound invested. "The Abyss is no longer guarded, and you started declaring yourself king of the world. Running down the halls and disturbing my much needed rest." The golem he commanded creaked a little, as if about to simply step right down. The gremlin just spat out in disgust.
_{"A nap! You torment me over a nap! The world is free to conquer and you spend your time tormenting me over a n-"}


The spray of brain matter that now clung to the heel of the Emperor's Right Hand would need to be washed off. The only place Velo could think of in short order was perhaps... The Lagoon? Others had probably gathered there, to relax or simply to celebrate before they left. No doubt the emperor could make his way out on his own, but why bother with that? He could use the help. Would certainly make things much easier on him. No doubt others would flock to his leadership.

"Right Hand, follow me." Velo said, and gestured for his golem to follow. He needn't have said anything, but it was the way of an emperor to like the sound of their own voice.

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The Lagoon

"Of course neither of you would have the means to get past the rabble." The emperor's words were the way he chose to introduce himself. Stepping out silently from around a pillar of stone. The red eyes of his guardian followed after him, as the red clad emperor stood there. His hands wrapped over his chest. A lesser man might have introduced themselves first before making such comments.

"They are a pack, and you are merely two. A pack does not fear the lone wolf, but rather a larger pack." Velo said, stepping onto a rock that stood over a pool of water. His eyes focused on each of the two he had approached. One, a vampire from his rough estimations. The other... Perhaps the only being in the Abyss who had been here longer than he. Azrael. If they had spoken to each other, it was so long ago that he could not recall the specifics.
"If you two are so interested in crawling your ways out, you are in desperate need of a pack of your own. To pool your talents together, under a greater, and more noble cause." The emperor's talent for needless speech-giving was on full display. "What say you, to a temporary pack?"

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@Quasi@ZAVAZggg

"Oh? Awful presumptuous to think I'll die before you. But if you must know; you can call me Raula." It was her turn to cross her arms. She wasn't going to step back just because the man stepped forward, but she had little reason to buddy buddy the man so easily; especially after that last comment. "And you? Awful rude to ask for my name without offering yours, isn't it?" If she was to be honest, she didn't have much of a plan besides using the man as a shield and do all the work or die. She couldn't really tell him that though. Luckily it wasn't long before others seemed to have appeared on the other side of the cavern. If nothing else, perhaps more meat to distract the dogs long enough for her to slip by.

Her eyes were trained on the man. A strong gaze looking at everything from is size to his muscle and deep into his eyes to see what lied beneath. Sizing him up to see how good her chances were when another joined the two of them. Rather two more, as the man was accompanied by his pet golem. Despite his young appearance, it was clear by the way he spoke that he had perhaps even more years on him than she did. And perhaps even a bit full of himself, judging by how he stood himself on display. Still; even if he didn't look to have the combat prowess she needed to throw in front of the dogs, his mechanical friend seemed to have no problem stepping on those in his way. And depending on how tough it was, might be good enough to get past the dogs with ease.

"Hmph. I'd rather avoid aligning myself under the same ideals of those dogs by being apart of a pack; but the intent I can get behind. I'll be glad to work together until we get out of this hole. If you're so interested, you may call me Raula as well. Its not much, but I have a couple of potions if you get injured. It'd be a drag if I had to carry you two and it out of this place." Weather to just show off the other, larger group forming, or just trying to distance herself a bit from the two men; Raula turned to gesture towards the rest of the denizens of this murky cavern. "You could also try to recruit those over there. But if I had to wager, they'd probably be heading out same as us. It might be just as well to let them go first and come in after them. I'll leave that between you two."

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At first he had simply ignored the noise from outside. Screams and cries were nothing new, and through the meters-thick walls of his prison, it all blended together to Slarg. Muttering to himself about noisy thin-skins, he entertained himself by scratching crude drawings into the stone with the sharp bits of his club. He had managed to hold on to it, all that time running through the abyss. He had thought he had found a nice hiding spot, a deep, dark cave that the humans would be wary of entering, but instead he had run right into their prison. Slarg had been forced to go deeper and deeper, running and fighting for his life against an ever-growing horde of pursuers, until finally he could run no longer. Once again, he had thought he had found a hiding place, somewhere he could rest for just a moment. Only, he had woken up to find himself walled in, a smooth slab of stone where the entrance had been, magically reinforced, with only a small hole for the guards to slide in his intermittent meals. At the memory of his imprisonment, Slarg cursed the humans for their treachery and their magic. He had no idea how long he had been stuck in there, but it was enough that he had long since given up on escaping - that is, until the cries of pain were suddenly drowned out by cries of triumph. There was cheering, a lot of it, too much to be coming from the guards.

Curious, Slarg hurried to the door and pressed his enormous ear against the stone. Those weren't guards, no, they were the prisoners. He had heard them now and again, when the feeding hatch was open. He slammed his great fists against the wall and bellowed for someone to tell him what was going on... and found that the wall was nowhere near as impervious to harm as it had been. Eyes alight with glee and newfound hope, he gripped his mighty club in both hands and battered his way through the rock. He burst into the prison hallway in a shower of dust and pebbles, grinning madly as he hefted his club. The inmates in front of him - a rag-tag bunch of rogues, still picking over the dead - raised their weapons by pure reflex. A fatal mistake. The few that didn't immediately turn and run, were crushed underfoot as Slarg simply ran them over in pursuit of the larger group. The smarter runners, who had been able to work out the misunderstanding, desperately shouted apologies over their shoulders as they went, begging the ogre to kill the wardens instead of them.

The pursuit continued for several minutes, through many winding tunnels and past multiple groups of dumbfounded prisoners. Slarg, who enjoyed wanton violence, would most likely have chased them down and killed them regardless of their pleas, were it not for the wall of werewolves that materialized in front of the fleeing inmates, stopping them dead in their tracks. Slarg's sheer momentum carried him through the first three or so ranks of prisoners, many of whom survived, and brought him face to face with the werewolves. The flurry of fangs, fur tufts and blood that followed might have made it into the history books. But unfortunately, Slarg was thoroughly illiterate, and dead werewolves tell no tales. Even a werewolf doesn't heal very well from having its skull smashed clean through its ribcage, and Slarg's club was adorned with the odd bit of silver, from weapon decorations and old jewellery stuck in the wood. The cramped prison tunnel was not ideal for a creature of Slarg's size, but the werewolves' numbers worked against them in a similar fashion. Their fangs and teeth were hard-pressed to make it through his ogrish blubber, and as one of them found out the hard way, his jaws opened wider than theirs.

The battle carried them through another couple of tunnels, and as he was finally prizing the last werewolf remains off his club, Slarg looked up to find himself at the entrance to a large, open chamber, smelling of stale water. What's more, he was not alone. A large group of creatures were standing off to the side, engaged in loud discussion. Having sated his bloodlust, at least momentarily, it suddenly occurred to Slarg that he was still stuck in the humans' prison. These new creatures didn't have the same sense of fear about them that the other ones had - perhaps they could be of some use, even though they did look suspiciously clean and tidy.

"You!" he bellowed, before the tension of his entrance could fade, "mighty Slarg wants out! What way is out?"

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"Azrael," the fallen Seraphim said, ignoring her remark before turning his attention to the newest member of their impromptu group, a face he hadn't seen in centuries yet recognized nonetheless.

"And as for your offer, Velo," he went on, stuffing his hands into his pants pockets as he shot the immortal a knowing look. "As I have already explained to our vampiric friend here, I have no qualms with all of us joining forces. So long as it increases our chances of escape, I will partner with whoever I need to. That aside however, if you two are in agreement and have everything you need, shall we continue on our way?"

He turned away from the pair, gesturing towards the other end of the tunnel, pointedly ignoring the other monsters that had started to gather in the area. This was the first time in thousands of years he'd come so close to escaping this shithole and exacting his revenge on the humans above, and the last thing he wanted was to have his plans foiled by small talk.

---

The Catastrophe released all manners of beasts. Some were felled by the staunch defense by the werewolves and others pierced through. Some ran before the werewolves could catch them and others hid away. There were even a few who decided to stay in their cells out of apathy.

Chryseis was one of these apathetic individuals who didn't even move when there was an opportunity for freedom. A long time in this abyss sapped him of the energy he once add. The dream he carried in his breast used to be bursting with rambunctious fervor, but now it's at a low burn on top of a candle.

It was then that one of the panicking monsters had his fear hit a fever pitch and he tried to stab the lion in the form of a man. It rebounded off of him. It was aimed at his heart, but it was nothing more than a sting, a mosquito's bite at most.

It was a tiny attack. Something minuscule that's not worth noting in the first place, yet it was a hint of battle. What was his wish? What is the craving that burns deep in his heart? What moment would he trade for no other? And what should he do to attain it. All he needs to do is remember. "I..."

The Ancient Times. The Gods. The Demons. The Humans. The ardor he never once lost. The Baleful Gold. The Moment he sought with all his being. It's time for Mephistopheles to open his eyes. The beginning of a fight burned away any traces of hesitation within him.

Yes...that's right." Reaffirmation.

Chryseis could feel his soul pulse, akin to a heartbeat. "I wasn't merely rotting away here, waiting for my death. That's no different from a prisoner on death row." He slowly, yet forcefully stood as he said those words. His eyes shined with power and an apathetic frown grew into a savage frown. All the remaining apathy faded like a receding wave.

He gazed down on the creature that attempted to murder him. It was nothing of note. His soul and body began to regain its past vigor. I've yet to achieve anything. Does that not contradict my dignity?"

He realized his true craving at that very moment.

He was dropped down here by the gods because nothing could withstand his love.

"So be it, then. My love will take the form of destruction. I shall ravage so I can cherish. I adore the weak that bow before me, as well as the defeated that bend their knees. My love expands to those who would do me harm. I love all and everything. And so I shall lay waste to all before me."

The monster that attacked him had already collapsed from the sheer density of his soul expanding. The man transformed into a giant lion and utterly destroyed the cage, not caring for anyone else trapped in there. He let loose a roar signifying the boundless void in his heart. To soothe its listlessness, he will embark on a quest to devour the world, hoping to chance upon something that will sate him.

Soon after, Chryseis found himself at a lagoon with the bodies of werewolves left in his wake feeling joy dancing in his breast.

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The "rat-man" introduced himself as Rafiq, a name almost as dumb as all the other names she'd heard coming from its lot. It even admitted to the fact that he was, as its species is known for, as a "famous" thief. For a moment, the oni considered Rafig to perhaps be part of the same group which lived near her village, only to be quickly discarded as it "subtly" asked for her name. The rats near the oni's village know exactly who she is and they usually scamper away in fear just by her looking at them. She glared at the rat as she turned up the large boulder.

"Jukati-Oni." she responded unceremoniously as she finished wrapping her arms and proceeded to flip over another rock to find anymore supplies.

The rat continued with an offer to help her into a beneficial relationship. He claimed that with her strength, combined with his speed and stature, would allow them to become a great team. Jukati squinted towards the rat-person, before scoffing.

"And then steal mah loot when I'm not lookin'?" she asked still adamant on her previous experiences, "I know who yeh rats are, and what ya rats like doin'. How am I gonna know that you won't be sniffin' out meh stuff when I aint lookin', hm?"

But before either could say anything else, they were both interrupted by yet another voice. It would belong to a female drow, or who's more commonly referred to as a "dark elf". They were a rare sight for the fire oni, one she had only seen a handful of times from a distance. Still she rolled her eyes at the two and continued to keep searching as she listened in on the conversation.

The durow claimed the Rafiq was pillaging her stock and selling the oni garbage; while the rat rebutted that it sold its talents and abilities. The oni gave an annoyed growl as she slammed the rock on the lagoon floor with a hard thud.

"Ya both talk too much!" she bellowed out as she glared at the two in frustration.

The durow, it would seem, had something that could ease the fiery oni's temper, as she gave her a potion that claimed to increase both her size and strength by triple. The oni took the vial with an audible sight as she began to expect the bright blue "elixir" that swirled in it. She was intrigued by this offer, yet hesitant. Ratiq would also share in its concerns as it took the vial and inspected the contents for itself. From there, it began to ask the saleswoman on the oni's behalf, ultimately believing that this was all too good to be true.

At least Jukati could see that they were both on the same page.

"Rat-man's gotta' point." she agreed almost reluctantly, "We only jus' met ya in the middle of where be all the nasty bunches. How would we believe that ya not be givin' meh poison or somethin' like that instead?"

In the meantime, she could also hear more commotion arriving from other portions of the lagoon. She could hear the thumping of stone slabs resembling that of a golem, the bellows of an ogre - who were distant relatives of onis - and the sounds of a lion-like creature. More convicts were slowly coming from the dark pits of the abyss, ready to get out of this god forsaken hellhole.

It would be only a matter of time...

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"Well Jukati of Oni, you are correct. Correct, right, true. There isn't anything stopping me from robbing you blind in the middle of the night. However this applies regardless of whether I am with you or not, and I would think I am more likely to rob you if I weren't allied with you. It really comes down to weighing advantages vs disadvantages." Rafiq explained as they held up two hands, motioning with them as if they were scales. "On the one hand, if I steal from you while allied with you, I am losing your protection and gaining a new enemy. But if I am not allied with you, I lose nothing by stealing from you." They snickered as they said this, their laughter shaking their form slightly as they thought of the scenario. It was really quite funny.

"But I would never steal from a friend, never ever! To bite the hand that feeds, quite foolish. Foolish, stupid, idiotic." If Rafiq were taller or Jukata shorter, this likely would have been the point where they wrapped an arm around Jukata's shoulders, treating them as a good friend. "Please, think on my offer. We have plenty of time-" Their speech came to a halt as their ears twitched, a dawning look of realization present on their face. "Well, perhaps not that much time. I trust you can handle yourself though." A distant splashing echoed through the lagoon, slow, footsteps of a distant group. They halted for a moment, only to speed up as they got closer. Looks like someone had found the various trails of carnage, all leading here.

---

Anyone with a superior olfactory senses could probably smell them from a mile coming, the smell of wet fur mixed with iron and filth. Multiple directions, multiple tunnels, multiple patrols. Werewolves poured into the lagoon from all sides, four patrols of five all wielding spears and swords, all snarling at the prisoners who would dare leave their cells. "You bastards! Who the hell said you could leave your cells huh?!" One of the wolf men snarled, a dog wearing ragged clothing and carrying a sword in less than decent condition. One of the leaders obviously, considering most of them weren't wearing any clothing and their weapons looked like they were one bad swing away from falling apart due to rust.

It was at this moment that Rafiq patted Jukati on the thigh, the highest place they could reach, before slowly fading out of view. "I'm afraid I am very useless when it comes to fighting. Useless, inadequate, weak. I'll leave that kind of thing to you."

"Hey get the hell back here! Get em men!" And with little warning, the werewolves sprung into action. They aren't coordinated by any means, but they're certainly well trained enough to not get in each other's way. Seems like their pack mentality made them perfect for patrolling and fighting in groups.

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Azrael let out a low growl as the chamber gradually became a larger hive of activity. Of differing wills and desires, all lingering on the teetering point of uncertainty despite the solution being so close...

Then the exact thing he feared had finally come to pass.

The mutts had arrived, throwing a wrench into what would have been a smooth escape, or a smoother trip to the surface several miles above at any rate. Now he would have to waste precious time fighting off the mongrels, which only increased the chances of something else going wrong just as they were about to leave this decrepit pit. Still, there wasn't much else to be done save stand and fight. So, thrusting his arm out to the side, Azrael manifested his Quintessence for the first time in centuries. Giving the soul-forged blade a few experimental swings, he assumed a reactive and mostly agility based stance. One that would be perfect for weaving in and out of the mutts’ pack based patrols, letting him reduce their bristling and fouls smelling ranks into a charred, ashy, mess.

Moving off down the tunnel, the exiled seraph rushed towards the nearest pack of wolves-a group no more than four in number-each armed with heavily corroded short swords and daggers. Items that would be better off in a scrap heap rather than an actual battle. As he drew closer a plan of attack began to form within his mind. First he'd immobilize the leader, whom he assumed was in the front. Then he'd move onto the next wolf, casting the pack leader into one of its men in order to sow some chaos and buy himself some more room to breathe. From there he'd slice the throat of the next unfortunate hybrid to cross his line of sight, before moving on to either kill more with his Quintessence, or his deathly touch.

Quickly closing the distance, Azrael executed his plan, sending the lead wolf stumbling off into one of its subordinates with a swift kick to the side of its head, before going in to finish off the rest.

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Jukati permitted herself to listen to Ratiq's explanation and promises in being a loyal friend. Frankly it was somewhat surprisingly endearing for someone like him, almost flattering to a sense. She still didn't fully trust the rat-people, but could Ratiq be genuine with its words? Could it be the exception to the so-called established rule? Part of her wanted to believe so anyways...



But she didn't have much time to dwell upon it for long. Soon she could hear the sound of rattling metal alongside the unmistakable growling of dogs. The werewolves were closing in on their position. The oni growled as she looked towards the entrances with a scowl. The werewolf patrols were beginning to surround the group, attempting to block off their chance of escape. The leader barked for all of the escapees to get back into their cells while the rest snarled aggressively.

Those damn mutts.

As she glared at the nearest patrol group, Ratiq admitted his worthlessness in combat and wished the oni good luck. Made sense for someone of its stature, as she really couldn't blame it. No matter, that just meant less competition in punching the most guards.

Jukati punched both of her fists together as fire began to emanate blazingly from her forearms.

"Alright ya sons of bitches." the oni snarled back as she showed her fanged-smile, "If it's an ass-whoopin' y'all want, then it's a major ass-whoopin' you'll get!"

It was then when the werewolves began charging at Jukati and her group. That sealed it. With a savage roar, the oni lunged towards the approaching forces like a ravenous beast before she proceeded to leap into the air. With her fists burning ablaze, she would punch the closest wolf with all of her might. The wolf staggered into the ground as the others began their assault on the oni. One of them lunged with his spear, only for the oni to wind around and smack him away. Another tried to pounce upon her back, kicking and scratching with his sharp claws, before he was thrown into the other guards with a helpless yelp.

At this point, Jukati was softening her foes up to chewable mush for the rest to get their own glory kills in...

The dark elf's expression turned frigid as the rat sought to pick apart her sales pitch, no doubt ingratiating itself to the oni to rely on it's superior physique to get by. Worse still was the Oni seemed to be listening to the scoundrels words, affronting Willowa that they would even question the efficasy of her goods. Certainly it was dangerous, and she had half a mind to test it's improper usage on Rafiq himself when the rumbling of brutish lupines thundered into the lagoon. There went a chance for a counter argument, but they served as a fine outlet for her frustration.

It did not take long for violence to erupt in every direction, some reacting faster then others and choosing to run down the werewolves while others observed coolly. In Rafiq's case, he ran like the rat he was and Willowa couldn't be happier. The Oni wasted no time smashing heads and pulverizing bodies, fresh blood exciting the drow and triggering her sadistic impulse to set her own life's ichor singing in her veins.

"Pfft, let the rodent have the cripples." She turned from Jukati's weakened prey, rushing off a speed that had her coat whipping wildly behind her towards the lingering vampire and the lofty Emperor Eternal. Beyond them was a pack of werewolves unclaimed by the battle and she relished in leaping over them, the only sound heard the popping of a cork before she sweeped it downwards, splashing them all in droplets of Giant's Elixir before landing behind them. "I made this for combat, so it should work quite quic- There we go!"

Screams of pure agony erupted from the throats of savage beasts, their bodies so used to one transformation now morphing wildly as wherever the potion splashed grew while the rest of the body remained static and unsuited to the increase in mass and size. Bones snapped like kindling over the fire and muscle gave out with the twang of severed piano wire. One was fortunate to not have covered his head and had their head swell like a balloon, snapping his spine for a merciful end that his pack were not so fortunate to receive.

"Unfortunately for you lot, that potion should only ever be drank in full, or not at all. Fret not, for I can surely learn something from your mistakes." She cackled, throwing her head back and laughing with an uproar, the fullness of her delight swelling as the pack crumpled to the floor, living only in the strictest sense of the word. In the potion's mis-used state, not a scrap of clothing or armor had grown with the beasts, leaving those with breastplates and braces to experience the fresh hell of being a living sausage straining against their exterior as pressure mounted, the war between bloating biology and the straps holding the armor together sure to end in a spectacle.

"Oh, and Ms. Vampire over there? I don't want to insult your tastes, but you really should avoiding this group here. I'd be loathe to lose an ally to friendly fire such as this." She hollared over the werewolf's pained mewling, waving to the group she had yet to introduce herself to in some time, but it was hard to forget ones as amusing as the former humans over yonder.