"Razael, I have come to bring you home. We have decided we can overlook your deviation and will let you back into the fold. Or I can take you back the hard way and lay you to rest in the Halls of Remembrance." -Last untainted words of Atrophal, angel of the Choir of Mercy
When
Atrophal arrived at
The Black Well, they were prepared for anything.
Razael was a brilliant healer and could see logic. But he was also walking down a path of madness and could prove formidable if it came to a fight. The outcome that came to pass never even crossed their mind.
Confident in their own strength,
Atrophal arrived alone so as not to appear threatening. They spoke to
Razael of reason, his history of healing, and how disease should be abhorred, not cultivated.
Razael spoke of strength and the tools used to gain it, of the notion that removing a disease only fixes half the problem.
"Atrophal, when a tool is used to make you stronger, do you cast aside that tool, never to use it again? The lesser beings, when they shift a weight, or research a problem, do they discard the weights and results once they are through? No! they keep the tools of their toil and build upon it. Why, then, would we not do the same for sickness? Why seek to remove a disease when we could harbor it, allow it to grow, and in turn grow with it? I have reached the top of my mountain and learned that it is but a cliff. The pursuit continues, and the key is to spread these gifts to the world, to the cosmos, so that all might reap their benefits. Surely, you can see this is for the greater good?"
And with this,
Razael had slowly begun to sink his hooks into
Atrophal's mind. It was clear there was to be no fight between them;
Razael never raised a hand against
Atrophal, and only raised his voice when speaking excitedly of his cause. So
Atrophal laid their blade, the symbol of their office and their commitment to their duties, aside. And slowly
Atrophal was convinced. Their conversations spanned hours, days, weeks.
Razael worked all the while, showing only the good things that could come from corrupting the Well. After a time
Atrophal joined in the work and left the Choirs of Heaven behind.
When they were finished, they moved on to other work, never giving a thought to the blade laid down. and
Atrophal's resolve was lost, forgotten: until the portals reopened and the well was rediscovered.
