[center][h2][color=FireBrick]Journey through the Lush Dark-Decisions, Decisions...[/color][/h2][/center]

When he'd happened upon the skirmish, Wrath had already recognized the signs of battle between the Hierarchy and the Demons, since the Laguna angels left behind a rather tell-tale signature with their attacks that the Army of Light usually didn't. As he moved through, it soon became painfully obvious that either both sides had been understrength or both sides simply hadn't cared if they survived the encounter, and it was likely the latter. [color=FireBrick][i]Wasteful, even by Laguna standards. They must have thought this an important position in order to waste so many of their own on it.[/i][/color] The Nephilim continued through the carnage, searching for a body he could take back.

It was at that point that he heard the faint call of a Joy, an angel the Hierarchy had created as a mockery of the Umbra Witches, and he turned, noting that she was wounded and fading fast. The wounds were easily identifiable, especially since the one who had given them to her, a female looking mannequin, was nearby. Clearly these had been the commanding officers of the two now obliterated forces and both fit the broodmother's request. [color=FireBrick][i]And now to choose...[/i][/color] His gut instinct was to give in to his rather strong dislike of the Hierarchy of Laguna and take the Joy back to the broodmother; after all, it would be quick, clean, and probably less fuss about being followed.

But he didn't, even as he moved past the dying Joy and put a couple of crossbow bolts into the mannequin for good measure. The Laguna angels were still angels, no matter what Wrath's personal feelings on the ugly bastards. Uriel would also give him a new hole to breath out of if she'd ever found out that he'd allowed a demon to possess the body of a Joy and that was one anger that he had no desire to face. Slinging the mannequin over his shoulder, he sent out a call for aid on the Angel communications to hopefully get the Joy some help. And then he began the trek back to the Broodmother's lair. Hopefully this would satisfy the eight-legged pain in the rear.