Meanwhile
5th Floor Renoir Island
Azrael focused on the words in front of him, even in the midst of battle his attention seemed to be drawn somewhere else. He took a step back, dodging a wild strike to his face as the Rapier barely missed his throat, he growled as he focused his attention back to the fight in front of him.
He bent down down under the next strike and left another cut on the Fishman that was in front of him, then he took three steps back, watching impassively as the Fishman grunted, the gaudy robes hanging over his naked frame doing nothing to give the aquatic creature any form of modesty.
He could smell the scent of death, it was heavy in the air, it was a reassuring to him, because he knew without a doubt that it meant that he would succeed. He did not need to try to see the spectre that heralded death's arrival. It consumed when it needed to, no one was above it, no matter how strong they were.
