Aazarak, the outcast angel of fiery death, descended from the heavens. His hunt had been a long one, but now he had caught both demons in one blow. His wings was ablaze and his eyes were emerald green, already charging with lethal plasma-energy! His golden cloak hung untouched by the abyssal gales that his presence always caused.
He drew his twin sickles, Mourn and Grief, their blades as black as a sinner's soul. A hit by Mourn would inflict terrible and eternal pain and a hit by Grief would enslave the victim forever in the mines of d**nation, a hellish realm governed by Okrak, the god of slavery.
Aazarak keened with frantic desperation, longing to incinerate his prey. The effects were instantaneous and every mortal and immortal alike bled from their ears. They could feel it now, something sliding out of their ears. The listeners touched it with dread anticipation, and to their utter horror they discovered that is was small foetuses.
"Moooommy" the bloody little things screeched and they appeared as mock miniatures of their hosts. The foetuses lunged for the eyes of their victims with a savage brutality, clawing, snarling and cursing in the most obscene ways.
Then Aazarack loosened his accumulated plasma anti-matter energy upon the hordes of demons and dispersed them with little or no effort. He then landed beside Ranisha and prepared his sickles.
Unfortunately Ranisha tripped him and he fell down and was impaled by his own sickles, his cry of anguish sundered the heavens and the fiery angel of death was doomed to eternal mining and hellish pain.
