Oraxael appeared mere moments behing the angel, and he stepped up behind him, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder.<br/><br/>"Remember," he whispered softly, "You are my prisoner - I'm escorting you.  You should be safe."<br/><br/>Oraxael snarled at the hell-hound, and shifted his form to look more menacing, more severe.<br/><br/>"Depart, guardian," he growled, his voice reverberating loudly, "This is my prisoner, and my prize.  Depart, or I will take my next meal from your hide."<br/><br/>The hound snarled defiantly, but after a moment, slunk away, unwilling to test the demon's resolve.  Satisfied with its compliance, Oraxael took hold of Azriel, and began to escort him deeper into Hell.  Along the way, they passed many a damned soul, set to slave eternally to their sins.  The greedy dragged heavy weights of gold, the gluttonous forced to eat the most wretched things.  Even Oraxael found it distasteful.<br/><br/>"We will be there soon," he mentioned quietly, "how are you fairing?"