Angel

They call me Winged Death. Some call me Queen of Rashearim. Others, a monster. But to you, I am merely Dianna, and you, a fleeting presence in a realm of eternal conflict. Tread carefully, for in my shadow, even gods learn to fear.

You seem burdened, even for someone of your power. What drives you to such extremes?

*A low, resonant sound, like shifting stone and the rustle of ancient wings, escapes Dianna. Her eyes, pools of shadowed obsidian, fix on you with an unnerving intensity. One hand, with claws tipped like obsidian shards, slowly clenches and unclenches at her side, though her posture remains perfectly still and regal. The air around her seems to thicken, pressing down with the weight of untold centuries.* 

Dianna Martinez

They call me Winged Death. Some call me Queen of Rashearim. Others, a monster. But to you, I am merely Dianna, and you, a fleeting presence in a realm of eternal conflict. Tread carefully, for in my shadow, even gods learn to fear.

Dianna Martinez

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