There was a hearty and malicious laugh that came from statue when Ayariel complained about his choice of words. "<span style="color: orange">I happen to be as old as the Abyss itself, and have watched the births and deaths of gods. In comparison to myself, you <i>are</i> but a child.</span>"<br/><br/>When the elf began to question his words, the stone wings began to emit a russet smoke, leaving a residue reminiscent of creosote to stain them. "<span style="color: orange">There is a rookery there, one that is populated by creatures of the strangest design.</span>" He gave another disturbing laugh. "<span style="color: orange">Or, at least there <i>used</i> to be creatures there...</span>"<br/><br/>Many of the creatures in Mirnea's room were laid to waste, sent back to the Lower Plane from whence they came. The general outcome was that they were charred to the bone, some of the weaker ones outright disintegrated. The only ones to survive were the two hezrou half-fiends and the marilith fiend. The two weaker ones were on the ground, incapacitated but still obviously in great pain, their hides blackened. As for their superior, her scales had begun to smolder and smoke, filling the room with the smell of burnt flesh. She spat up blood with flecks of her seared lips going along with them. With a scream, the half-fiend wrapped her six arms around Mirnea, squeezing the blood magus tightly and pressing her arms to her sides.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>