The loud scrape of metal sounded as Michael slid along the barren rock the paladin stood on. Antonio leveled the sword with the Council's disgusting, heretical forms. A tone of enmity was apparent as his booming voice echoed around the chamber.

"I'd say go to Hell, but you've made yourself quite at home. Perhaps these fools may take up your offer, but you truly are miserable old idiots if you think I'd just turn tail on my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Any scar I gain in His service is a mark of pride, [i]demon.[/i] Now get on with it! You're wasting valuable time I could be spending making those demons and heathens above suffer. And pray we don't cross paths again. The next we meet, I'll bring a pickaxe, and we'll see if your insides are softer than those rocky faces."