Uriel's Spear

The Light of Betrayal and the End of Desire

There's a legend circulating among Crimson soldiers that tells the story of the most powerful weapon in the world and how it disappeared.
Long ago in the Final War, when the Morningstar rose from the ashes of Abyssia to storm the heavens and defeat the Usurper, countless battles big and small engulfed the world in flames. The Mala'ak fought against the Infernals, and all of Umbria was scorched. Powerful, eternal beings rose alongside human soldiers when the worlds shattered and blood drenched the earth. One of these beings was Uriel - the Light of the Creator - a general among the ranks of the Heavenly Host. Uriel is said to be of fearsome height and radiance, a being forged at the Usurper's hands as the embodiment of lightning. With five wings and no eyes, their magnificent beauty was said to be blinding even when they attempted to subdue their own power. 
But this story isn't one of glorious battle, but of wretched deceit. So listen closely to this strange tale from before the world ended:

It is said that on the verge of the end, shortly before the Usurper called open the Riders to start the Final War, Uriel was commanded to ascend from the heavens in disguise of a perfectly white stork. They traveled past unassuming humans, already trapped and entangled in the web of indulgences and addictions spun by the Usurper's plan - all simply focused on themselves, eyes dully set on the shiny lights of reflective surfaces, mind set astray by countless distractions and heart captured by the indulgence of readily made available artificial feelings. 
The stork settled on top of the highest building in the world, an artificial mountain, a tower of glass and metal, piercing the clouds and breaching the heavens; holding a whole city entrapped in its iron ribs. Plumage rustling, the bird simply sunk into the illusion of hard surface and density, only coming to a halt and taking form again when grasping the rim of a massive throne made of steel, goat's leather and filled with lamb's wool. 
"You came to see me, sibling?" A voice intense as musk and smooth as rubywood oil issued.
"I have, indeed," the bird replied and dissolves into pure light only to wander across the luxurious room.
"What for, I wonder? Is it time?" The towering figure is resting comfortably; broad shoulders leaning against the high rising back of their throne.
"No," the light replies, refusing to take shape. "I have a message for you, brother." Leather creaks and metal aches as the seated one leans more heavily into the chair, slightly moaning. One, no two smaller, fragile-looking beings with horns and hooves rest to their feet; working relentlessly towards their pleasure.
"It is not like you to be early. It is very much like you to be lying."
"I am delivering THEIR message."
"The one doesn't exclude the other. Actually, more often than not, our Creator is not clear about their intentions."
"Aza'zel."
"Uri'el."
"The end is neigh." Unsettling flicker, moving through the room, slowly taking shape, losing it again, sending erratic shadows across the room. 
"I know. I am prepared. I have done everything THEY asked, and look around you." Opening their arms in a wide gesture, the broad-shouldered figure rises, slowly, to face a perfectly clear view over the city that never ends; engulfing the horizon in brightly coloured lights and smoke, a crescendo of music, artificial and human sounds, brimming with life. "The crop is ready for the harvest. They are enjoying themselves. I have given them plenty of love and pleasure to indulge in and I have taken even the souls of the utmost upright hostage; plagues by eternal desire and fueled by despair.
"You did well, brother. It is time to go home." Little lightning bolts slither across the figure like electrocuted snakes.
"But... the war..." Hesitation in his handsome face, smooth and spotless, of eternal youth and beauty, but ordained with the crown of a capital ibex. "I thought..."
"Yes." The figure out of light takes vaguely human shape, slowly forming their wings. "Let's fight together." A hand, out of glowing plasma, extended.
"I don't understand." The dark, melodic voice is trembling. He shoves his subordinates away who desperately attempt to keep licking his shiny shoes. "I thought I was banished and forbidden from ever entering the heavens..." One human eye, blue as the sky, the other red like blood and the shape of a goat's. 
"THEY changed their mind. You can come home." The light comes closer. "You've done enough."
"I don't believe you." The human beauty is amplifying while at the same time, the face turns into a grimace of unholy pain. The underlings start wailing and screaming in agony as they are being overwhelmed with the entire world of emotions plaguing their master.
"Go on. Listen in." A welcoming smile of perfectly white teeth shines like a comfortably dark spot in the screaming bright, vaguely humanoid, towering figure, slowly growing to reach the ceiling of the luxurious room. 
He hesitates, tears calmly running down his cheeks a perfect, salty stream. He doesn't blink. The goat's eye is twitching, irritated and bleeding from the brightness to endure. Yet he can't resist. Heart racing, he closes his eyes and listens in - deep into his soul and retrieves the link to eh heavenly host. Since he has been cast down to Umbria, has fallen from grace and given the duty to oppose, rebel and destroy creation instead of protecting it, all in the name of the Creator, he has been seperated from his siblings. Able to listen to their song, their chatter, their eternal union, but cut off from participating in it for all eternity, until the end of all. 
but suddenly, he starts murmuring and the see him! The song changes, the moment his bariton joins the fold, they adjust their tremolo to accompany his tune. He weeps of joy, his heart almost collapsing while his soul sings and is heard in the first time in aeons. 
They compliment him on his strength, his experience and his vigor; acknowledging his existence for the first time since he was banished from the celestial realm. The feeling of warmth and comfort, being recognized by your own family who has misunderstood you for so long. All resentment and all grudges waived, as the siblings and the parent open their arms and say: 'Come, child, we acknowledge who you are and that you are not what we wanted you to be, yet we love and accept you." The weeping stream of tears becomes a river of warm, salty floods. His insides are brimming with joy, rising him up, shaking him down and filling him with hot, intense love until it hurts.
Too late does he realize, that they couldn't have possible known about him. Too late he realizes, they were singing about him, but they were only repeating what Uriel had told them. Too late he realizes that commenting on his strength wasn't a compliment or acknowledgement but the judgement that he, Aza'zel is a threat. Too late he realizes they were whispering, not attune to him, but syncing with sibling Light to destroy him.
And as Aza'zel, the Scapegoat, the Ivory Devil, the Onyx Angel, opens his eyes to wipe the tears from them and face his sibling, his insights turn into a knot so tight, it sends him flying back into his throne. Betrayal hits him deep into his soul. Uriel cowering over him, sitting on a pole of light, impaling him, ordained with votiv bands, holy water, the word of the Creator and burning deep into his stomach. 
"Why, sibling? I was looking forward to fight you... I wanted you to end me... but why can I not face you on the battlefield?" "You are too strong, too dangerous, brother. Your voice can sway millions and your scent had half of humanity addicted... they are but ants in our Garden Eden, but they are legions - and you, my brother, you have grown too powerful as their God of Ants."

And it is said, that Uriel sealed Aza'zel with this spear, made out of their fifth wing and that is the reason the apostle of passion didn't fight in the final war. Legend has it that the Spear of Uriel opened a portal to the first Netherrealm and sealed the Ivory Devil forevermore. No other eternal has been truly slayn - let alone by a manifestation of power - a weapon. So there are rumors that the spear as well as Aza'zel are still out there somewhere, and that some have made it goal of their Burning Crusade to find them both and bring them home.