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Everything had happened too quickly for the phoenix to register, one second they were standing before the black-armored figure, and the next she was alone (alone as she ever gets, anyway,) save for the tortured bodies on the ground.

"...who has the right to pass such judgment?" she whispered harshly. Crackles of energy snaked across the earth, carving intricate lines in the dust, rubble, and blood. "You bring nothing but death! There is no honor in SLAUGHTER." With a shriek, Aziraphael pulled away from Azira, leaving the severely weakened cleric behind, barely conscious, kneeling in the blood and dirt.

The phoenix let out a piercing cry, and a huge bolt of lightning came smashing down from the suddenly cloudy sky with a deafening crack.

"I am afraid my time is near, Atrius, for I am an old man who has lived his life well. I do hope the answer for my vision comes to light.." With one last breath, he continues, death having already reached him. "And as he falls, may the god of wind carry his soul.." He lets go of his cane and falls back limp, blood dripping down his chin, and slams into the ground. As he lies, the blood runs down the corner of his mouth and plops onto the ground, running all the way down toward his ear; he landed face up, his listless eyes half opened and staring up..

"She has nothing to do with you." Her feathers bristled.

"I will not turn a blind eye to such coldblooded actions, but I do know when it is more prudent to turn away. I will not do so again the next time we meet." She did as she said, feathers still on end, and flap-hopped over to Cyril.

"It will be for you to do, Cleric Azira, if this fails, for the price of failure is my own spirit." Her form grew, wings mantled over Cyril's body, and she breathed out, attempting to transfer some of her own power to Cyril, heal him, and restore his life. Even if it did succeed, she stood some chance of fading away.

"You speak honeyed poison! All this about innocence and divine punishment--when you yourself have slaughtered an innocent here today!" She rose, form stretching to mirror that of Patrick's, all brilliant white and fury, wings spread in threat. "No true child of the gods would stand for such hypocrisy!"

"S--stop..." Azira gasped, blood trickling from her mouth--she was too weak to be manhandled in such a way.

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead, and lightning flashed through the clouds.

And a silver sword sang through the air, halting in the path of Patrick's charge. "Peace," its wielder said, his voice calm and yet somehow powerful. "There has been enough blood spilled this day, wouldn't you agree?" The hand gripping the sword was scarred and calloused from many hard years of fighting, and seemed to glow slightly as if lit from within. The man's body was clothed in white, loose pants and robe, red triangles at the hems, recognizable from Azira's own garb, adapted for ease of movement while fighting. His silver breastplate bore the same design, stiff leather strips around his waist rustled against each other as he moved. His shoulders were armored in gold, designed to look like stylized wings. His face was calm, even showing good humor, behind long silver hair, but his blue eyes were hard and cold as ice. "This one will stand for his child, if you do not mind?"

((<.< >.>I'm pretty sure I can get away with this on the grounds that you declared them npcs, you just said we couldn't kill them you didn't say anything about bringing them back and I want answers...))

"You know I just don't get where that comes from a gods a god right? Does it make adifference if they're the god of war or peace, creation or destruction?" Ryhalt slowly walks out of a nearby alley taking in the scene around them "I was taught that all worlds of the multiverse come from the Void, upon many life evolves and prospers and some even develope intelegent creatures. But these beings having free will, too much free time and a need to explain the quirks of nature, and so make up gods which start as ideas and grow from the Void like weeds from a fertile field. Well that's what Velorius and Davon tell me, Vel always said gods were like tools that believed themselves the craftsman, a paradox and a joke!" Ryhalt waved his arm towards the alley and several Shadows appeared they quickly began gathering up the remains of Leon and Cyril.
"Velorius may have decided not to kill you and ordered I stay out of your way, but he said nothing about them" he nodds towards the corpses. "And I happen to know a few bits of intra dimensional law and theocratic rules, you already took their lives as punishment for their sins, hence if I arrange to resurect them they will have payed for their sins and so be cleansed of the crime, so you won't be able to touch them." Ryhalt turned and smiled smugly towards Perun and Patrick. "But please don't mind me, I 'd like to see who'd win a God ha! or a... man I assume? crazed by his fanatical religous beliefs"
By now the Shadows had gathered up most of the remains and were now starting to head back into the shadows. There was just one thing that really bothered Ryhalt and that was when Patrick had shown his true form. "Just one quick question representative of the creator... just what are you? of what world and species are you? I have only ever seen one other who looked like you do, the pale hair, the wings, the eyes devoid of sanity well some of the time... you two could almost be kin... What are you called? And none of this religious title nonsense what are your people called?"

(*Glomp!* Jer! >.< n_n")

Perun sighed. "If your master will recall, this one created the being that stands before you as this one's emissaries to this realm." He motions toward Aziraphael, who was still bristling. "As well as her siblings, of course." His sword was still bared and ready, but lowered slightly. "But you are jumping to conclusions without tracing the path. This one is not standing before you on his own, he is merely using one of his faithful as a mouthpiece. Therefore, no breach of the Laws have taken place this day."

He sheathed his sword and turned toward Aziraphael. "Peace, child. Sleep." She blinked a few times, then condensed into a solid ball and melded back into Azira's body. He followed the spirit, and knelt by its cleric vessel. "You shall endure." Her wounds closed. "Rest now."