The Painted Hunstman – Azazael
Azazael’s eyebrow raised as the robed man spoke to him of his concerns. A mind reader? I’ll have to stay aware of that, could be dangerous, never enjoyed people who have more knowledge than they should. At least his motives seem decent, that’s a starting point I suppose. And, whoever you are, I can assume you’re listening to everything I’m thinking now, how reassuring.
Azazael smirked as the summoner moved on to the others in the group.
As the summoner did so, Azazael glanced around the gathering a second time, trying to garner more information than he had managed to previously. Sometimes you have to know your friends better than your enemies, for it can be hard to tell the two apart. Everyone in the group was rather attractive, as if they’d been written as a hero from the tales of old, and two in particular seemed to already be getting rather closely acquainted.
What Azazael had noticed in particular was that, apart from himself, three other people had chosen not to speak, the girl clutching her knife as if it was her lifeline, the seemingly mechanical man looking for a way out, and a long haired man with a painted face. All were of similar age to himself (or so they appeared), but looking much younger, their face was not marked by a tough life, well, apart from the blond man with a painted face clutching a bow, a most impractical weapon, too unreliable, especially in harsh winds. But, for all the impracticality of the weapon, the way in which the summoner spoke to him implied the thoughts of a huntsman, so a good person to interrogate about the practicalities of hunting creatures, even if this creature was like something they had never seen before.
Just as Azazael was to head over to the painted huntsman, there was a screeching as if thousands of crickets were erupting in turmoil, and a girl appeared, with an air of authority around her, well-armed and instantly the centre of attention. Azazael despised people who evidently knew their own importance, sufferers of pride, so questioning her would have to come later, for she obviously had something that no one else here did. It was for this reason that Azazael was relieved when someone else decided to speak first, he was not in a prime position to answer questions such as the one just posed. She definitely had power, but to what extent, Azazael did not know, he would have to try and discover what her capabilities were.
Deciding against revealing his wings once more, Azazael strolled over to the painted hunstman and held out his hand, “Azazael Redde, Fallen Angel. Shall we?”
Azazael beckoned towards the portal that had just opened, and gave the hunstman a thin-lipped grin, eager to discover what this man could discover.