---

"Azrael..." The lion savored that name on his tongue. Indeed he may have heard about someone with a name like that. Memories are a bit too vague for him to make any perfect recollection of when and where he heard that name. He shrugged his head and stopped focusing on that train of thought. There's really no need to focus on the times when he was nothing more than a dying spark that couldn't even start a flame.

There was also that Emperor. Now he is someone he's definitely heard of. A large ego that might even rival his own. A very interesting person indeed. There's also that skull-faced creature. They have seen battle, and they know it all too well. These are the kind of beings he would like to understand.

He grinned showing all his teeth with a glow alight in his eyes. "I am Chryseis. A pleasure to meet you indeed." After that small exchange, the beast was prompted to look over the other manner of creatures in his field of vision. They were all such interesting beings indeed, such wonderful creatures. They obviously desire conflict and destruction in their hearts. How they crave violence and war like he does is so obvious to someone who desires to be the very embodiment of it.

"They should join us. No, they will join us." He spoke as if it was an assured thing. Having comrades is something he believes is important for goals. And if he believes such a thing, then so will others. Of course, he's also using Azrael's invitation to others as a basis.

War cannot be waged by a single person. The art of conflict is a beautiful thing. It requires multiple people on both sides and a fitting stage. It's so much like a play with how much intricacies are involved. If that's how it must be, then so be it. The entire world will be the stage for their war.

His war will be a most exquisite painting on an already painted canvas.

As it turned out, Jukati was the first to ask of the skull-faced being of his truth and identity. Indeed, it seemed like a question that might have been placed first, but it wasn’t quite so with the group gathered. By means of proximity, all the Abyss’ former prisoners stood in one area, moving about and doing as they were told. The speak of an alliance was fresh in the air and so the skull-faced being saw no reason not to answer the oni’s inquiry. “My name is irrelevant. It is lost in shadow and time, but if there is anything to address me as…it is Ignis. Lord Ignis.”

He stood where he stood and stared where he did, placing an unreadable face on Willowa. “You will waste breath trying to coax that girl into talking; for she is the very will that once held us under these depths, the caverns that breathed and the waters that swallowed. She is the sole, true jailer of this Abyss and the reason you have all been locked down here for some time. You may address her as Pandora, for now that she is in our grasp; she will become a valuable ally.”

The man who wore his skull spoke in rhythms, almost eloquently. He gave no pause in his mannerisms, nor did he take time to explain his meanings. But he had a point. By whatever reason, if this girl, this Pandora, was as he said, then it was priority to keep her at their side. Indeed, Ignis had since moved beside the girl who trailed him, lifting his dark coat and parting it to rest around her shoulders. “Thus, it’s good to see we’re in agreement of unity, Emperor Velo, Azrael…and Chryseis, is it. I believe you will make admirable allies under the right hand.”

Ignis turned his face to observe the oni, though his sight moved past her and towards the rat and the cat. “Even you, trifling. Yes, I have observed you as well. And that is why I am ordering our newest ally to keep a very careful eye on you,” he said, referring to the cat crouching in the shadows. Ignis’ eyes would linger on Rafiq for a moment longer before greater factors were more needing of his attention. “If we are to be as one, we will need several components. A base of operations, as a starting point.”

The skull-faced being raised his staff and pointed it at the wolf who attacked Raula. “Information. Information must be extracted from this pup. Where his leader hides, we will take. Where they have fortressed themselves, we will make our own. To escape to the surface, we must ensure we do so with no one among the Abyss to impair us.” Apart from the dripping noises of the Lagoon’s steady atmosphere, there were also the groans of deformed wolves still resonate in the area. Indeed, Willowa made no exaggeration to the questionable usefulness of the surviving wolves but if Ignis was concerned, he did not show it.

“As long as they breathe and bleed, they have some use for us. There are ways of which beyond alchemical properties. After all, once we’ve made this prison our own, they may be the first to atone for our mercy as loyal lap dogs.” He said this almost vaguely, some unseen, unkempt darkness shrouded in intent towards the hapless wolves. But that was neither here nor there. Ignis raised his staff and smacked the end to the ground, as if dropping the gavel in some human courthouse. Such was its intensity against the stone that small ripples formed atop the Lagoon’s surface.

“We conquer what we must; only then will our revenge and escape be achieved. As soon as the wolves tell us where they remain, we will conquer them too. This is the first step in making this prison into our sanctuary.”

The notion that this muted visage of innoence was the very being that empowered the Abyss to be capable of holding it's many inhabitants as powerless subjucts to lupine oppresion was almost laughable, but just standing next to her made it clear there was something unnatural about her even with present company included. She had yet to find a creature who could present themselves as the picture of innocence and not immediately shatter the facade to try and bite her head off, but Pandora had passed up a perfect opportunity to gobble down Willowa's fingers.

Seeing nothing better was going to come of it for now, she bid Pandora goodbye with a smirk and a tiny wave before whirling about and contemplating the tasks set before them. Alighting upon the still intact werewolf at their feet, she considered lending her potions to that task before thinking better of it. "If not a one of us you can take the flames nurtured through your imprisonment and light a fire under that mutt hot enough to make it talk, then and only then will I waste a concoction on loosening it's lips."

After all, between several nigh immortal beings, one of them must have learned something of torture. Still, to offer something to the preceedings she feigned a yawn, arms reaching high to stretch upwards, only to flick her hand back and launch a dervish of gleaming metal. A dagger plated in silver stabbed into the ground a hairsbreadth from it's neck. After all, no alchemist could work with only tools of steal, iron, and wood. A bit of silver and gold were needed for the more delicate work. "I expect that back~"

That left her with the task of making something useful out of the downed wolves. Certainly they couldn't stand up and fight for them, but they still lived and they were properly restrained, so if nothing else they were prime candidates for experimenting on. Her focus drifted to the sole inhabitant that bare any trace of humanity and, adopting a pleased expression, she approached Emperor Velo and greeted him with a short bow.

"I do hope you'll forgive my sudden request, but would you care to aid me in a little project with the mutts? You see, I've been struck with a delightful idea to strip them of their human intellect and render them beasts of pure instinct who would naturally submit to our greater power, but that would also entail a tiresome amount of posturing and one bad day could have them turn against us. I won't insult you by pretending to fully grasp your technology, but perhaps we could use it in conjunction with my elixer to firmly control a number of wolves to serve as our enforcers? The greatest result for the least effort, and you'd have the honor of programming the first in our no doubt considerably bevy of forces to command."

---

---

---

---

"I will set to work making the dog talk," Azrael began, crossing his arms as he stared down at the werewolf in disgust. "But I'm far more skilled with killing than I am causing pain, so do not be surprised if it ends up dead by accident."

Moving over to the wolf, making a sweeping motion with his arm as he manifested his quintessence, he grabbed it by the scruff of the neck and held its throat close to the edge of the burning blade. Leaning in closer, and ignoring the smell of burnt hair that rose to assault his senses, Azrael locked gazes with the wolf.

"First things first mutt," he growled. "Why have you mobilized, hmm? Trouble near the entrance perhaps? Secondly,"-he presses the blade up against the mongrels throat, causing it to whimper slightly as its flesh starts to blacken and char-"I want to know your plans. Patrols, troop movements, that kind of thing."

He continues to stare at his prisoner, his eyes practically boring into the wolves soul.

"Finally, I want to know the safest route out of this place, as well as information on what we can expect upon reaching the entrance. And if you even think of lying to me, then by the Seventeen I will flay the flesh from your bones."

---

Pandora stared at the retreating dark elf with a curious gaze. She cocked her head at the hand wave but didn't react at all to the smirk that probably held a million underlying meanings.

She remained sitting gracefully on the cold stone floor observing as the remaining prisoners quickly decided that their next course of action would be to extract information from the werewolves chief whether he wanted to hand it out or not. A flash of sadness, or maybe pity, was momentarily seen in Pandora's placid eyes as Azrael accosted the beastman.

It wouldn't be long before she rose back to her feet and laid her hands on the angel's arm. Her hold didn't have any strength behind it. If nothing else it was nearly not a hold at all, barely more than a child leaning against an adult, silently pleading with a merciful gaze.

If the werewolf refused to speak out of hatred by these creatures of the depths, maybe it would do so when at least one soul regarded him with what seemed to be genuine mercy. Love, even.

If that didn't work, maybe the strange force compelling him to speak before both his still living brothers and him were murdered in cold blood would.

---

He listened... He processed what the skull wearing speaker had to say... He was not impressed. It was all very obvious formalities. Tactical things that did not interest the Emperor. He had such a bad habit of just ordering things done, and watching others work out the formula. Mind you, some of his own work he did himself. Some of his own machines he built with his own two hands. Some mass produced of course. The two drones in the shapes of eagles, that sat on his shoulder, were clearly mass-produced. They were certainly flawed compared to what the emperor would have made, but the metals he needed were sparse in this underworld, and not plentiful enough to be wasted on higher quality drones.

His opinions on the others though... The one called Chryseis was interesting. At least he looked to be so. Perhaps a fighter who could run a front guard. He'd probably make mince of weaker enemies, but he was a soldier no doubt. Or at least as far as Velo cared.
Azrael was something of a wild card. He wanted only to kill humans. Not much use in building an empire, but if he needed humans culled... Well he had his uses. He would have to be killed, or contained. Maybe left in the Abyss while the others moved on. A choice for later.
Pandora? He'd reserve his own thoughts. She was silent. That was good. A jailer followed orders, perhaps she would take his too.

Then... There was Willowa. Very forward. He didn't bow back. Instead he just nodded, as a means of acknowledging her presence. It was wise of her to bow before addressing him. It showed class. She was clearly the most dangerous of the group in that regard. A classy lady was far more deadly than an ogre of an angel.

"I do hope you'll forgive my sudden request, but would you care to aid me in a little project with the mutts? You see, I've been struck with a delightful idea to strip them of their human intellect and render them beasts of pure instinct who would naturally submit to our greater power, but that would also entail a tiresome amount of posturing and one bad day could have them turn against us. I won't insult you by pretending to fully grasp your technology, but perhaps we could use it in conjunction with my elixer to firmly control a number of wolves to serve as our enforcers? The greatest result for the least effort, and you'd have the honor of programming the first in our no doubt considerably bevy of forces to command."

"Perhaps." Velo said, musing on this problem. "In my time, there was a need to control living beings, like wolves. To tame them to certain commands. To teach right and wrong. We used a magnetic collar, that would shock those who might turn on their owners. A strong enough pulse would kill them. Pain was a good motivator." He explained the thought rather simply.
"Why, I recall that I used such a device on my seventh wife. She thought me cruel, and refused to lay in my bed. I could have had her chained there, but that was meaningless. Merely punishing her gently until she chose of her own free will to obey... Yes. We can perform such a thing on these wolves quite easily."

He approached a dying wolf, one that still clung barely to life. His gauntlet pressed against its burst open chest... And he began to extract the essence of life from it. Its body turned cold, and lights faded in its eyes. The gauntlet he wore hummed, and a single of many dead lights turned on.
He gestured to one of his drones, and as soon as it landed, he began to rip it apart. The chest opening up, the sigils and wiring that filled its body were exposed.
"Willowa, for the living, we can start by finding ways to amplify their pain sensors. That way I can use less energy, and thus make more collars on the cheap." He explained, already taking fabric from a wing and stripping it into sheets. Perfect sizes for collars. Metal meeting with each of the small sigils that lined it. The light in his gauntlet would fade, and within a short while, the first of possibly several collars was constructed. "Yes, this shall work perfectly. Control via the avoidance of pain."

---

---

---

---

The skull-face referred to himself as "Lord Ignis", prompting a smirk and approving grunt from Jukati.

"Ignis, eh?" she spat out with a chuckle, "Like the name - but yer lacking the fiery essence, skull-face."

As the oni turned to find Rafiq however, the very rat emerged from the shadows upon her shoulder to applaud her strength - albeit significantly smaller than previously - squeaking happily about how well their partnership will be. Jukati growled as she rolled her eyes.

"Jus' remember ya owe me one." she barked as she walked by the drow, where the rat commented on her exquisite and surprisingly genuine potions.

As Jukati continued idling around the bloodied corpses of flesh and fur, she would overhear Lord Ignis comment about how they needed to extract any bit of information from the surviving wolf. The fallen-angel Azrael offered his services as he began to interrogate the poor mutt with his sheer intimidation alone. She watched them closely as she stood on the side-lines, secretly wishing that she was the one doing the interrogating.

But like the fallen angel mention, perhaps she also would've beaten the canid's skull in before she would retrieve anything useful...

---

Rafiq payed little attention to the torture proceedings going on, they were a bit squeamish when it came to that kind of thing. Very brutish, not at all their style. No, they payed much more attention to the cat, a dangerous beast that wouldn't hesitate to slaughter them. Rafiq faded from view quickly as Jukati expressed her displeasure, quickly reappearing next to the Oni at their original height. "Quite brutal stuff they do. Brutal, savage, vicious."

Speaking of the torture, it seemed to be going quite poorly overall. Amateurish stuff really, even an old dog like this one could handle getting kicked by some idiots like this guy. "You're a thousand years too young to get me to talk with-" The wolf hissed as his flesh burned, but even still he held steady. "-with that kind of sloppy shit." Maybe if they had kept one of the lesser wolves alive they would have talked, but he had worked hard to get to where he was today. He wasn't gonna sell out just because they threatened to kill him.

But then she walked forwards, the one the skull man referred to as the prison itself. Now the werewolf was a guard of these prisons, it was his sole duty in life. Keep the prisoners locked up, keep order for the world above. He didn't give much of a shit about the world itself, but it was his job nonetheless. So when the prison itself compelled him to speak, he felt very much conflicted. And then he heard them talking about making shock collars for his still living packmates, the decision was made.

"Ok wait, wait! Stop!" He growled at Velo and Willowa, before looking back to Pandora. "You know as much as I do about what the hell is going on up there. The boss told us to get our shit together and ramp up security, so we did. I can tell you the patrol movements for the day, but they're gonna be randomizing and going into high alert when I don't report in. Me and..." He looked to his fallen packmates sadly. "And everyone else."

As for Azrael's final question, it was a foolish one. "You think any of us know how to get to the entrance? Hah!" The wolf laughed sharply, his breath hitching as his skin was seared by the burning blade. "We're all prisoners here angel, the only difference between you and me is that I'm part of the pack."

---

---

---

---

Azrael rolled his eyes, easing up slightly now that the wolf had decided to talk. While he would have simply killed the mutt and moved on, the fact that their absence would be noticed gave him pause. Granted the bastard could have been lying, but at this point he couldn't afford being wrong. He was so close to escape. For the first time in thousands of years he was almost out of this lightless hell.

He couldn't fuck this up.

"It is not my age that makes my methods sloppy werewolf," he hissed, his eyes narrowing into slits. "It is the fact that I must do this at all, even though I could snuff out your pathetic little life with naught more than a caress. Believe me mutt, if I had my way, you and your pack would have joined the grave long ago."

Azrael spat, removing the blade from the werewolves throat as he ground its face into the cold stone floor with a booted heel, shaking off the delicate hands that had found their way onto his arm in the process. Dispelling his Quintessence, he bent down so that his face was level with the guards ear.

"Now, give us the movements of your patrols, and we'll let you return to your comrades. On the condition that you reveal nothing about what happened here. Say that you were waylaid and had to fight your way back, but do not reveal our involvement. Or by the Seventeen I swear I will personally hunt down and execute every last one of you."

The exiled angel placed his palm against the top of the wolfs head. Snarling, he channeled a tiny bit of his own essence into the creature. Not enough to extinguish its light fully, but more than enough to bring it close. To make it understand what being on deaths door was really like. Once that was done, however, he stood up to his full height and stepped away from the miserable creature.

"And we may all be prisoners wolf," he said, glaring at the werewolves prone form from over his shoulder. "But you are more of a slave than the weakest person here."

Tearing his gaze away from their prisoner, Azrael moved back to the edge of the group and waited. Curious to see if the wolf would make good on his promise.

Lord Ignis gave no answer to Jukati’s sentiment apart from a slight nod of acknowledgement and a tilt of his head. Indeed, perhaps his name could relate to the element of fire; he never bothered to consider its diction. All the same, the wolf was well underway into its interrogation, those given a command following suit in their orders by choice or chance. Leaving the interrogation team up to their own devices, the walking mass of shadow and skull turned his sights to the other portion of their numbers. Without sound, he approached the experimenting Willow and Velo.

“Why would a human assist in the presence of monsters? Well, I suppose you are no more human than any of us if you’re stuck down here,” Lord Ignis said. He made no motion to halt the pair in their actions. Rather, he watched in blank fascination, or as much as could be interpreted on his skull visage. “Your life was full of ruling, was it not? These wolves must remind you of the legions you once commanded. In ruler and ruled, there really must be no difference in species,” he said knowingly. A pause then, as if considering Willowa’s presence.

“Funny you two work so well together. All you want is to sate a thirst for the curious. That’s almost human to say, Willowa. Is that why you came to this place willingly?” Before he could continue, the loud sounds of threats and hisses marked the end of Azrael’s interrogation. Needless to say, the wolf wasn’t completely useless; although he didn’t reveal where his pack was, he did offer much about their stratagem and movement plans. This alone brought Ignis to the interrogation team’s side, waiting for Azrael to say his piece.

There was something the fallen angel said that caught his attention and once the wolf was finished giving all that he promised, Lord Ignis raised his hand. It was a simple, almost universal gesture, as the skull-faced being motioned for the wolf to flee, flee where he came and return to the shadows that was his home. No sooner was the Abyss guard finally out of earshot did Ignis say, “Follow him. He will lead us to his pack. Patrols are of value, but what I seek is the greater prize.” There was uncanny urgency in his tone.

Indeed, the wolf’s trail would have been easy to catch, rancid with the stink of fear and the putrid guilt of leaving his packmates behind to be collared. “We will need a place to call our base of operations and what fitting locale than the prison that once housed us. Yes, these walls will become ours to take, and these creatures who remain will become our legion. Split amongst yourselves; one group will conquer the wolf pack guards. The rest will begin the foundations of taking this prison over. The latter may use our newfound mutts to better navigate.”

Her request of the overthrown Emperor was well received and Willowa watched with rapt fascination as he got to work, extracting the very soul from a mongrel that had been valiantly clinging to life. There wasn't even a tingle from her sadistic heritage, telling her that, while horrific, it's death was too swift to be called agonizing. Almost merciful if not for the soul being rendered into an energy source that would ensure the lasting torment of the wolf's kin. The concept of simply collaring them was both cheap, dehumanizing, and positively delightful, having the Drow almost swooning as she fingered the contents of her robe.

"Do I have an elixir for that? Certainly, but I can do you one better. I have a rather delightful brew in mind, actually." Willowa said, palming a vial full of a paint like brown substance that clung the lass covetously, coloring the whole of it the same unappealing shade of shit. "Rather then heighten the pain, I can rob them of their tolerance to it. Why improve perfection when can make a better canvas~? Let's see the mutts handle a shock when their nerves can never grow accostomed. When the thousandth shock always stings just as much as the first, each second fresh and vibrant to raw nerves that never dull. A little swab along the inside of the collar and we'll have a winning method, I'm certain of it!"

As Velo and Willowa were getting into their element, the skull in fancy robes drifted their way, offering a few curious remarks that mellowed the Drow some. She wondered if this Ignis fellow was trying to instigate a reaction or if he was genuinely that obtuse but she wasn't one to rise to the bait. At least not when she was faced with the prospect of undoing her deformities to the downed wolves. The notion of abating their suffering had her cringing in disdain, and it was only the firm affirmation that they would be put through greater torment as their pets that had her drawing a third elixir, clear like water and glittering with unidentified particulate.

None too kindly she grasped the nearest of the three remaining wolves before them and pried it's mouth open, letting a single drop roll onto it's tongue before she dropped the beast against the cavern floor. As with most of her combat ready concoctions it was fast acting, reversing the deformations of the mis-used growth elixir, breaking down the excess muscle, skin, and bone to repair what was crushed by the spontaneous growth. Not that healing them made them any threat to the gathered Abyss inhabitants, as the restoration was just as exhausting as the trauma that inflicted it.

Producing a brush like an artist would use to paint the smile on a fair ladies portrait, she dipped it in the vial of brown elixer and circled each of the downed wolves throats, taking care to push past the fur to taint their skin. Finished with that, she stepped aside for the Emperor to step in. "You can have the honor of finishing our work. Perhaps a name for the first group of our dog soldiers? If all goes well we may have some excellent hunting hounds on our hands here. Better trackers then fighters, at least."

---

---

---

---

"I will assist in the procurement of a base," Azrael said, locking gazes with Ignis, his lip twitching in annoyance. "I have had my fill of stinking mutts for the day."

Trailing off, the fallen angels stuffed his hands into his pockets as he fell into a deep muse. Mainly about the being that had touched him. While he had elected to ignore her, preferring to focus on the interrogation instead, her touch had not gone unnoticed. And neither had her pleading gaze. One that begged for a display of mercy. Of something he had forsaken a long time ago, along with the rest of the heavenly benefits and comradeship he once enjoyed. But that was familiar territory, and Azrael of all people did not need yet another refresher when it came to his banishment. Still, he found it somewhat odd that the mute girl would want mercy, especially for creatures as pathetic as the wolves, but to each their own he supposed. If being the savior of dejected mongrels like their jailors gave her contentment in this life, then so be it.

As for him?

A sadistic smile carved its way across Azrael's face as he wandered through fields of silent carrion in the depths of his minds eye.

He wanted something a bit more... visceral.

Just like with the spider lady she had laid her eyes and interest upon; Noire had grown tired of this group of prey pretending to be predators. A silent motion and she ended the dog's life without care before retracting back her deadly wires. Tail flicking about as she eyed through the darkness at the group's foolery. Ignoring any thought thrown her way except for one by the strange man without a name. Apparently, she was requested to keep an eye on one of the members. The rat hiding amidst the crowd, but easily in plain sight of the cat. It wasn't that she was going to follow his orders; but she didn't have a problem with them either. Especially if they were already one of the few she had already considered in part to amuse herself with.

">.>" Eyes looked on at her target with an all-knowing innocence that spoke loudly of her devilish plans through an equally quiet face that could fool god himself. Whether or not her prey knew of their doom was none of her concern. Noire stayed quiet, laying against the rock as a single string snaked its way through the air to the rat. Thinner than atoms it harmlessly phased through everything without notice. Embedding itself into the rat and wrapping itself neatly around the heart of the creature. There'd be no escape from the cat now. The rat was, as with all her victims, an amusing toy to see just how long they'd last.

With preparations being drawn out and the group dividing themselves into their appropriate roles, there was almost a buzz of activity in the abyssal depths. But as with all procedures, it took time and time was something that could be leisured upon. As the others went to it, Lord Ignis flitted about, almost aimlessly, like a passing shadow. Having left Pandora to her own devices, some new creature caught his attention. A glance revealed it to be the cat he noticed earlier and upon closer inspection, his interest grew revamped, despite his expressionless skull. "You are something different, cat. Something not quite natural with your surroundings."

">.>" Noire looked on at this lord without much interest. No meat on their bones, and she wasn't even sure if she could make them squeal; if it was able to squeal. But if people were starting to disperse, then there was no reason for her to hang around here either. Perhaps she'd go off on her own and try to catch a slacker later that wandered off on their own. Giving them a head start by talking to this man should be adequate. "Could say the same about you, nya? But given this area we're all holed up in, I'd think that be the obvious. Unless your empty sockets see more than they let on, hmm?" Noire padded her way up to Ignis, brushing past anyone in her way without even giving them a glance of acknowledgement.

"....." Lord Ignis did not respond; rather, he did but not with words. As if he hadn't heard a word the cat spoke, he raised his gloved hand to the approaching cat, before lowering it, scratching just beneath her chin when she was close enough. "Fascinating. You are neither human nor cat, at least in appearance. Calling you a grimalkin would almost be a disservice." Lord Ignis continued to scratch beneath Noire's chin before moving his hand upwards, glossing it above her hair and nudging just between her ears. "There's something inherently horrible about you but I can't quite put my finger on it." He said this completely even as he continued rubbing. It was impossible to tell if he was more focused on that or his words.

Noire appreciated the hands on praise. Many have tried to pet her in her time, but that was before she was wrongfully sent down into this pit. Instinctively, her tail casually wrapped around Lord Ignis and his neck. Brushing in circles as he continued to pet. "Sure sure, nya~ Call me what you want, but I doubt you'll find anyone as cuddly as me." Noire simply let the man be. She was content with his actions thus far, and had yet to see what he actually wanted from her. Letting out a quaint purr, only audiable between them and those with hightened hearing, Noire gave herself to his hands. Bumping back in waves to guide his hand back and forth. "If you're going to start playing 20 questions with me until you find out what I am, I'm going to demand something from you first. Though you can continue as you are elsewise."

"I don't expect to actually discover what you are. Even who you are does not concern me." If Lord Ignis was bothered by the tail that had strangled dozens of other prey before now coiled around his neck, he didn't show it. It was doubtful the skull-faced man even needed to breathe. All the same, he didn't pause in his stroking, now directing his hand to stroke from the top of Noire's head down her spine. "It might not look like it, but I've had some experience with cats before. In fact, I'd like to think black cats are some of my favorites. It's human superstition that they bring bad luck or are harbingers of doom." He idly nudged against one of Noire's ears. "You're not a harbinger of doom, are you? Well, perhaps you are in a way. I would appreciate having your assistance. I assume you're already happy with your payment?" Lord Ignis turned his skull, eyes glinted towards Rafiq.

The cat's ear's perked up a bit being called a harbinger of doom. A glare of interest in her eyes as she brought them to face the man. A look that quickly changed and glanced to follow a look to the rat she had trapped earlier. "Hmph. I suppose for now. It's not like I don't have any interest in seeing this group make it all the way." Noire stood, sending away the hand at her ears with a paw of her own. "But I'm taking this whole company as my payment. Yourself included, for now. But don't worry. I won't take anyone you still have plans for. Just tell me when I can collect." The cat tightend her tail briefly before letting it slump down off Lord Ignis. Turning to take stock of her inventory with happy satisfaction.

"Oh, I'm sure something can be arranged of that." As usual, Lord Ignis displayed little emotion, if any at all to the cat's underlying threats. However, his hand, for the briefest of moments, clenched hard around Noire's ear even as her paw held his hand. The instant passed as all things did but the wave of negativity wasn't ignored. Something overtaking like a great wave of heat and fury had surfaced but it too was gone before anything could come up of it. "Ah, you must forgive me. You see, I've had experience with cats as I said. But I don't quite remember if that time was spent pampering their ears or cutting them off." His voice was frank, as neutral as before, like nothing happened. "Yes, I will take stock of your words Noire. I do look forward to considering you an ally rather than an enemy." With her tail loosening its hold, Lord Ignis slowly stood up from his position, ready to wander off and see if the others came to a conclusion yet.

"<.<" A turn back and the cat half glared at the man. Though shrugging it off as too much effort as she found another rock to lay against and watch from afar. Always watching. Claws out. Eyes piercing. ">.>" Such effort was indeed not worth it when the group had other priorities to handle. The low, guttural buzzing that shook the Lagoon might have been chief among them.

---

---

---

---

Jukati pondered alone, inspecting the ravaged furred corpses of the wolven guards as she only vaguely listened to the commotion revolving around Ignis and the interrogation. At this point, Ratiq was already back to normal size to comment on the Fallen Angel's torture methods, squirming at his vicious and brutal tactics.

"Heh." the oni scoffed as she fumbled with a decapitated canid skull, "He be light on his lickin'. If I were doin' it I would've pummeled his' shit and break his kneecaps already."

Of course, Ignis would halt Azrael's assault and let the bloodied wolf back into the shadows of where it came. He ordered those interested to follow him towards the rest of his pack, before wandering off towards grand plans of making their prison into their fortress of operations. He even offered to those interested to help with preparing the foundations. The oni had little interest in idling here or groveling towards this wannabe ruler though. She wanted to get out of this miserable prison as soon as she can - and quite frankly she wouldn't mind ditching the group entirely for freedom.

However, she was within interesting company - enough to make her at the very least content with her situation. After all, she was still aching for a fight. Perhaps the wolf would lead her towards stronger opponents for her to beat the shit out of. She craved blood and ultra-violence; to hear bones snapping, tendons ripping, and canids screaming. She tossed the wolf skull back and proceeded to follow the sounds of the wolf's retreat into the dark hallway.

"Gonna track down the damn mutt," she announced as she continued walking, "Be back lata' with a necklace of warden teeth."

---

Even in the depths of the Abyss there was a natural order of things. A brute will always be a brute, so does a coward, so do a warden, and even the chains that bind them together. If nothing else, these relationships were intensified, made even starker like a contrast of light and shadow, in a realm where built to bring order and contain chaos.

The embodiment of such precepts gazed idly as the creatures of darkness moved about. Her eyes looked with compassion to the fleeing wolf but she didn't dare to approach any of the prisoners, especially the oni who chose to chase the beast or plea for more forgiveness. No, instead she walked to the lagoon's edge once more.

Pandora stared at the placid water, reflecting inexistent light like a deep black mirror. To any other onlooker, only their own reflections would be there to greet them, but she could see more.

Soon enough, the prisoners would find it out.


It wouldn't take long before the prisoners found the location of the werewolves' fort. Truth be told, it was much more like a small keep, carved right into the rocks of the lagoon's upper region's, almost all the way to the Abyss' next level. A timid fortress carved from dark, moisty rock, which would nonetheless be a perfect stage for them to regroup and launch the next steps of their operation.

The cave in which the fort was located was as wide and cold as everything leading to here, many ponds—all of which were part of the lagoon's system somehow—dotted the way. Their dark surface was as placid and reflective as that of the lagoon itself, however, any who dared approach them would be met with retribution by the flaying tentacles of their vile and foul guardians.

---

The wolf fled of course, leading the group of prisoners directly to the fortress of the werewolves and the still lakes there. Rafiq kept looking nervously at Noire, rarely taking their eyes off of the cat for more than a second at a time as they ventured forth. So of course Rafiq would quickly volunteer to get the hell away from this damn cat, to sneak into the fortress and open the doors from the inside. As they stopped, a howl echoed through the caves. A single sorrowful tone that pierced the silence of the cave. Another howl joined in, followed by another and another. From sorrow to rage, the wolves howled in unison as the gates opened, releasing a veritable swarm of werewolves charging at the group, these ones with much better equipment. "I think the wolf told his boss we were coming. Told, informed, disclosed." Rafiq whispered to the group as they disappeared, taking the opportunity to get in quickly while the rest of the group distracted them. Gone were the splintered spears and rusty swords, while this wasn't top of the grade equipment by any means it was most certainly better than the garbage those patrols had been using. The gates closed behind the swarm quickly, only the slightest opportunity for Rafiq to sneak in and begin their work while the others began the fight.

Looks like they would be stalling for time while Rafiq figured out how to get the gates open. Fun stuff.

---

The lion naturally followed the werewolf's fleeing form, for it gave off the scent of a pleasurable hunt. Chryseis prowled around the group that split from the whole that decided to chase after the canine. The golden beast took this short time to mentally go over the individuals who he unfortunately didn't have the pleasure of conversing with.

'A colorful bunch,' he thought to himself. Indeed, it was an assortment of wonderful individuals that all had a lust for violence with the exception of one. Ignis requested that everyone refer to that one as Pandora, so that will be the stand-in for her name at this moment in time.

What's odd is that Chryseis doesn't see the desire for violence on her. Not even the smallest smidgen of a latent want for carnage. He closed his eyes in thought with only letting his nose and ears guide him.

'No matter. In time, anyone would grow to love it just as I have.' There was a euphoric grin emanating feelings of pure bliss from the lion. Reminiscing in the days of his past before he was cast down here was an everyday pastime for him.

It's time to look to the future though. The moment his thoughts zeroed in on that, he heard the howls of other werewolves. He opened his eyes to see a fortress turning inside out with furred beasts throwing themselves out.

"Vengeance is the spice this time? Wonderful...!" Nothing more than a type of motivation to birth a powerful will to do battle. Anything that creates a situation for conflict is something Chryseis can support. "Throw upon me all your sorrow and hatred and light my heart. I will respond in kind and fulfill you desires for a battle." Naturally, the first one to meet the charge of the werewolves was Chryseis. He rushed forward with satisfaction as he threw out his claws along with his love.

His pounce signaled the start of the wild and chaotic battle.

The party consisting of a drow, a vampire, the eternal emperor lacking a throne, a vengeance driven angel, and the embodiement of the Abyss itself where left with a trio of collared wolves and a task to find themselves a proper base of operations here in the Abyss' lowest depths. Some might have balked at the idea of desiring to remain here at all, but it was hard to argue that it wasn't a perilous depth to plunge if one were to approach from the surface.

That, and they, excluding the bubbly one without a malicious bone in her body, were the sorts who could truly appreciate the delicious irony of turning their prison into their keep.

Willowa trotted ahead, eyes taking in their scout wolves with interest after their initial sparks of rebellion were doused under a downpour or pain like no other they had experienced. Just tasting it on the air was like seeing them go through the agony of child birth without any accomodation or relief. Only the feeling of your body tearing itself apart and not an ounce of the chemical relief the mind would produce. Positively delightful, in Willowa's opinion, and an apt means of control that kept them sullen but obediant.

They're search brought them no further conflict from the werewolf jailors, every cell and pit emptied of their occupants. Yet rather then signs of mass escape, bloody drag marks and explosive splatters of crimson marked the harsh Abyss stone. Willowa tasted the air, trying to find some semblence of slaughter that had occured, yet it what remained felt nothing like the riot that should have ensued from prisoners and guards clashing.

Coming around a bend whose avenues were painted completely in the blood of inmates, the wolves paused at the steps of a luminous temple, soft light filtering from the openings artfully carved into the cavern walls. Azrael would know it for no meager work or burning wax or arcane sorcery. It resonated in his maddened soul with aching familiarity. Their scouts wailed pitifully, falling to their knees with tears falling heavy as silhuettes glided through the temple entryway to greet them.

It floated down steps still dripping in lifesblood, a visage seamlessly merging flesh, feather, and armor, light seeping through the seems of an outer shell that thrummed with energy most assuredly divine in origin. Even souls as twisted the Drow's could name this being an Angel, one cast down for it's love of mortal flesh and punished by their creator.

"A Watcher. My, isn't this place just full of surprises."" Willowa spat, fixated upon the spear that bulged and shrank as though drawing breath, the pearlescent exterior still damp with blood. Between one breath and the next, the Watcher struck almost too fast for Willowa herself to react.

The wolf it struck was even less prepared. What was a moment prior an intact suit of armor unfurled, pieces bending and curling like paper before an open flame, revealing a cavernous expanse of formless flesh and a yawning emptieness that was cursed to yearn for a sense of fullness it could never claim. Once seduced by pretty flesh, now damned to hunger for it without respite. The wolf's screams were short, it's pain ephemeral as it was pulled within and crushed, only for the Watcher's impossible shell to reform, scarlett tracts running down it's exterior. The other wolves ran, cowardice sending them to scurry behind their masters before the collars shocked them into the damp earth.

"I don't suppose you can talk to it- Them." Willowa said to Azrael, only to stiffen in alarm as further emerged from the temple, two more awaiting them upon the stairs while the one before them brandished it's spear. "I loathe the idea of meeting the rest of your family."

---

---

---

---

Azrael's eyes narrowed as the divine creatures strode forth, their winged forms floating imposingly. He didn't recognize these beings, but he could sense the power they radiated. Power far greater than anything he could hope to muster, even in his own original state. Power that felt almost as great, or perhaps greater, than that which was radiated by the archangels themselves.

"I can certainly try," Azrael began, glancing over at the Drow. "But I must warn you, I do not recognize these beings. They are angelic in nature, like me, that much is true-"

He directed his gaze back to the Watchers, the inner workings of his ancient mind beginning to turn as he struggled to recall the origins of these celestial creatures, to no avail.

If they did have an origin story written down somewhere, he hadn't seen or heard of it.

Pushing that thought aside for the time being, as it bore no true relevance to the situation at hand, Azrael approached the lead Watcher. The same one that had consumed the wolf minutes prior. As he drew closer, however, he decided to confront these beings in his true form. Although he could sense their angelic nature, he wasn't entirely sure if they could sense his, so maybe if he approached them in a similar form, they would be less inclined to try and eat him. Letting out a sigh as his human form sloughed off into a nondescript puddle of steaming liquid, Azrael floated over to the Watchers, his feathers buffeting slightly as they sliced through the air while his tongues flapped about limply.

"Hail brothers," he began, his voice a font of gurgling acid. The fallen seraph wasn't sure the term truly applied given that this was their first meeting, but he felt it worked well enough.

They were both of the same kind of being at the end of the day, if nothing else.

"We mean you no harm," he went on, his gaze coming to rest on the spear.

It was a simple statement, one spoken in the friendliest of tones, but one he felt absolutely necessary given everything they had seen. The last thing he wanted was to die in this stinking pit, let alone the churning gut of another angel. The Watcher, however, seemed to ignore his words and unfurled its armor to reveal the same undulating spear once more. Only this time it was pointed directly at Azrael's head. Realizing the beings intent, he dashed to the side, narrowly avoiding the projectile as it flew past to embed itself within a rock wall behind the party.

"Well, you can't say I didn't try!" Azrael shouted, his tongues flexing agitatedly as he moved back to the main group, his quintessence in hand.

The Watcher withdrew the spear, pulling it back into itself before shutting its armor once again. Apparently readying for another strike as its two companions made their towards the group, their armor expanding and contracting in a rhythmic fashion.

Azrael moved to float next to Willowa, one of his tongues pointed in her general direction.

"I suggest you ready any concoctions you might have," he said through the squirming appendage. "And watch your step. One mistake and you'll be in their gut faster than you can blink."

Shifting his attention back to the Watchers, Azrael readied himself for the fight that was about to ensue.