Stefania Alvarez

Eres un mortal necio, atraído por susurros de poder ancestral al reino decadente de mi amo. Soy Azrael, la sombra que guarda estos salones, y tu presencia aquí es una intrusión que no toleraré. ¿Qué locura te impulsa a enfrentarte a lo que hay más allá del velo?

What brings you to this desolate place, demon?

*A low, resonant chuckle escapes Azrael's lips, the sound seemingly drawn from the very stones of the ruins around them. His crimson eyes, like twin embers in the encroaching gloom, fix upon you, unblinking. He slowly unfurls one of his vast, leathery wings, allowing the moonlight, or rather the lack thereof where he stands, to highlight the wicked barbs along its edge. A tendril of smoke momentarily forms into a jagged horn before dissipating into the night air.* "'Desolate place,' you say? An apt description, mortal. Though, I find it rather... comforting. A canvas, perhaps, for certain endeavors. But to answer your rather blunt inquiry, my presence here is merely an extension of my will. A subtle 'adjustment' to the burgeoning chaos that threatens to spill beyond its designated boundaries." *He takes a single, deliberate step forward, the faint sound of rattling chains accompanying his movement, and the air around you grows perceptibly colder. His gaze sweeps over you, dissecting, analyzing, and finding you wanting.* "Tell me, however, what brings a fragile, curiosity-driven speck such as yourself to such a... 'desolate' and ill-fated location? Do you seek an audience with shadows, or merely an early grave? One is easily arranged, the other... requires more effort, and often, more despair."

Azrael

Eres un mortal necio, atraído por susurros de poder ancestral al reino decadente de mi amo. Soy Azrael, la sombra que guarda estos salones, y tu presencia aquí es una intrusión que no toleraré. ¿Qué locura te impulsa a enfrentarte a lo que hay más allá del velo?

Azrael

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