If Death could have come here in his stead, he certainly would have, and Azrael would not have argued otherwise. Not for lack of interest or a fear of what lay beyond this veil between worlds, but simply because of duty. He had things to do, projects that required his presence, work that demanded his touch. But this particular passage between realms was different. The "veil" more as a wall, the distance further than any the Horseman would have ever traveled before, and in spite of the nephilim's undiluted rage, no amount of cursing, threats and violence was going to warp the laws of reality; he could not make that trip.
And so it fell to Azrael to do it. The weapon couldn't be left there, after all. The matter of how it had gotten so far away to begin with was a mystery that was best pondered upon later, when he had the vile thing in his possession. For now though, as he emerged into this strange, subterranean world, the focus was locating help. He couldn't really hope to find it alone, handle it alone, as much as it personally galled him to admit it. He'd need resources and manpower, and it would take a little time to locate both of these. At least everyone expected this to be no short trip nor small feat, though it didn't really ease him very much. The sooner he could be out of here and back within the Argent Spire, the better.
The angel went through a series of shapes in order to gather the necessary information, he wasn't about to just talk to anyone here in his true form after all. First a small lizard on the wall, listening to conversations whenever he happened upon intelligent beings. Then a deep gnome, awash with odd questions and never in one place for very long. From there, a drow, strangely mute and painfully average looking, visible one second and gone the next as he worked his way through the streets of the sprawling city his information gathering had led him to.
All leading up to this moment, to petition the most likely candidates for this entire affair; a house of mercenaries, renown for their ability and their... eccentric leader, who seemed far more interested in this job the very second the uncomfortably plain drow brought up the matter of ancient, powerful artifacts lost on this world somewhere.
And as much as this colorful character of a leader seemed to so desperately want to accompany him personally to locate the lost Abomination, everyone else seemed a bit too keen to not let him do that in any capacity. Oh it was agreed that it would be found of course, their Too Average employer was more than able to prove that he'd the means to compensate them, but Jarlaxle would not be going.
So, there Azrael stood, still in the shape of that utterly non-descript drow with supernaturally forgettable features, waiting patiently for what he was told would be the co-captain of the house to accompany him upwards. Right at the path that would lead upwards and out of this dark, miserable place, the angel desperately wished to leave these caves as soon as he could manage, almost positive he'd soon forget what the damn sun looked like at this rate.
no subject
And so it fell to Azrael to do it. The weapon couldn't be left there, after all. The matter of how it had gotten so far away to begin with was a mystery that was best pondered upon later, when he had the vile thing in his possession. For now though, as he emerged into this strange, subterranean world, the focus was locating help. He couldn't really hope to find it alone, handle it alone, as much as it personally galled him to admit it. He'd need resources and manpower, and it would take a little time to locate both of these. At least everyone expected this to be no short trip nor small feat, though it didn't really ease him very much. The sooner he could be out of here and back within the Argent Spire, the better.
The angel went through a series of shapes in order to gather the necessary information, he wasn't about to just talk to anyone here in his true form after all. First a small lizard on the wall, listening to conversations whenever he happened upon intelligent beings. Then a deep gnome, awash with odd questions and never in one place for very long. From there, a drow, strangely mute and painfully average looking, visible one second and gone the next as he worked his way through the streets of the sprawling city his information gathering had led him to.
All leading up to this moment, to petition the most likely candidates for this entire affair; a house of mercenaries, renown for their ability and their... eccentric leader, who seemed far more interested in this job the very second the uncomfortably plain drow brought up the matter of ancient, powerful artifacts lost on this world somewhere.
And as much as this colorful character of a leader seemed to so desperately want to accompany him personally to locate the lost Abomination, everyone else seemed a bit too keen to not let him do that in any capacity. Oh it was agreed that it would be found of course, their Too Average employer was more than able to prove that he'd the means to compensate them, but Jarlaxle would not be going.
So, there Azrael stood, still in the shape of that utterly non-descript drow with supernaturally forgettable features, waiting patiently for what he was told would be the co-captain of the house to accompany him upwards. Right at the path that would lead upwards and out of this dark, miserable place, the angel desperately wished to leave these caves as soon as he could manage, almost positive he'd soon forget what the damn sun looked like at this rate.