"Hmph..." A single sharpened slash on the outline of darkness, the room lit up to see the black figures of two beings standing opposite each other, ones blade was that of legend known as Wrath, said to draw out the enemies weaknesses in battle and eventually suck out their souls, it gleamed in a pale white as ice surrounded half the room, its Heaven like appearance drew the wicked from their caves and all manner of dark creatures to face such a blade. The other figure held a sword of one that would have came from a nightmare, a burning fierce flame surrounded the other half of the room, its surface was an unholy essence that drew those of the light to seek and destroy such a sword, it too sucked the souls of foes who would dare face and lose against the one whom weilded such a blade.<br/><br/>The figure that held Holy Wrath had the wings of a Gria but not the shape of size of one, in fact this oneâ€™s wings were much larger and well-build for combat, the tone was precise and the appearance of such a out-line told those he was masterfully trained in his own figure and body to pick up extremely heavy loads, even in mid-flight. The other seemed like that of a normal human the one that weilded the Unholy blade, the one that screeched the name Wrath as its wielder fell to his knees in defeat, the blade lay there and encompassed its self in iron rock, a power unfamiliar to those of this plain of existence and physically impossible to destroy apart from those with the knowledge and those who would seek power from such an object.<br/><br/>"Fair well..." The winged being stood up in place as the flames died and the ice overwhelmed the fallen opponent. The blade shone brightly, as out stretched wings burst out into their full length, thick and long enough to cast a shadow upon the world, the background cleared and was the room of a castle chamber perhaps the bed chambers of the master of such a fortress.<br/><br/>The Gria left the room in a crystallized state as he walked down the winding stairs carefully placing one foot in front of the other from the undead corpses and horrifically decomposed bodies that lay there, showing signs of powerful hits on with Wrath inflicted upon them. The Gria appeared outside where it would be considered a slaughter, many bodies were piled on one another, weak and limb whilst others were seen as powerful and considered brutes. Flames rose from such a castle as half of the wall was shattered by the powerful ice that earlier crept up and froze such a giant object.<br/><br/>The being stood in the light revealing his armour, that of darkness, thick blackness and the ebony plates shimmered even in the gleaming light, along with the helm that viewed a twisted and maniacal face that would be seemingly impossible to wield such a holy sword, his wings raised up as shadow wings ripped into such a beaming light the sun produced, the armour rippled off to reveal that of a young, silver haired, strong, toned male.<br/><br/>His wings also changed into that of white-snow, unlike the dragon wings of a Gria this being had those of a feathered nature, still strong and still powerful either way but unlike his kinsman this Gria was unique in physicality. He held Wrath in front of him then swirled such a blade into the sheath of his back. "I must thank Quetzalcoatl for such a victory this day..." His tone of voice was gentle and washed over those like an ocean, soft but also warm and comforting.<br/><br/>In a gust of winds, the Gria's figure was lost in the skies, heading however towards the city of Belazir where the temple lie in the Titan-like mountains, such a place has not been visited by his kind for many years, and he was sure there would be some that would be unnerved but his perticulare appearance, time would only tell.