(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

esonated between my ears. I tumbled from the dais, the blade slipping
from my grasp. I was dimly aware of the line of whirling light, the blade
spinning from me, and snatched by the hand of its master. With that my
vision swam with opalescent light. I must've caught myself instinctively,
because when my senses returned to me I was propped up on my elbows
and looking up to the deva, who unfurled his charred wings, bare bone
slashing the air.
"I thank you for freeing me. I owe you much." Trias breathed. His voice was
beginning to take on a sense of clarity, like a man finally awake and about,
freed from his sickbed. His eyes were alight with recognition, looking about
his surroundings. "I remember now... the lost souls I had tried to redeem.
The traitors, bitter, the condemned... whether or not they deserve their
condemnation. Such battles to be fought..."
Fall-from-Grace broke in suddenly. "You refer to the Blood War then, Lord
Trias? What are your thoughts?"
"You are perceptive, tanar'ri." His eyes flashed lightning. Whether he was
displeased at the uncomfortable topic broached or that he was speaking to a
member of a species so ideologically opposed to his own, I wasn't sure. "The
hosts have let their hearts falter, for they dare not confront the fiends
directly. Where is their spirit, their love of purity? My lords direct the war
from afar, manipulating the fiends into costly battles with one another,
giving them weapons and filling their minds with the knowledge of how to
hurt each other more effectively so that they might not look up and see our
golden fields."
"How can this be changed?" I asked, brushing myself off.
Trias settled back, though his charred wings rustled slightly. "There are ways
to change even the minds of immortal generals, mortal. Someday, they shall
see, of that I have no doubt."
I glanced up at him, "If I may ask, how did your wings get burnt?"
"It was part of the grand betrayal of this city - they seared my wings as they
manacled me, that I might not flee them even through the earth. It is the
nature of this place that things of beauty are not tolerated." He stretched
his limbs and sheathed his blade, "The people of this town - traitors all -
know nothing of truth and beauty. They cannot tolerate it. They lured me
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