Most Mercurian soldiers are passionate warriors, with no fear of death, and a burning hatred of both the forces of hell and those who would deal with them. But though he fought under the banner of the Mercurians, Boris was not this sort of soldier. Wanting to disappear from the various unpleasant duties associated with being a low-rank grunt in any army, Boris had signed up for lookout duty. This was usually a risky job, but they were far enough from the action that it merely provided an escape. "Quite a pleasant view," he said, nodding at the woman who was sitting on duty. The Mercurians, like the Bannor and several other civilizations, saw nothing strange about arming women and putting them on the front lines; this was, after all, a war for survival.
"Nice view? I suppose if you like endless trees and the smell of monkeys, with a bit of distant sulfur for taste. Name's Nelrene, by the way. Yours?" They stood atop a cliff, with nothing but jungle behind them, and more jungle below, stretching all the way to the horizon, thick with smoke where the taint of Hell was beginning to take hold. "I'm Boris. And, well, I do see one thing that improves the view..." he said, again nodding in Nelrene's direction. She said "you ain't exactly an angel by any definition. Keep that up, and I'll give you your first taste of flight." She motioned towards the cliff's edge, just in case he didn't get the hint. Boris nodded. "Whatever. If you've got a guy, or you're just here to stab orcs and demons, fine. I say, we enjoy life. I hear angels can't, well, y'know... least, not the ones in Mercurian employ" "A pity," Nelrene said, "some of them look plenty nice. Actually, all of 'em do, before the fighting gets to 'em. Although those Valkyries seem to look wonderful, no matter what happens..." Boris said, "aye. But they scare me half to death. It's like talking to a Doviello, except the Valks use bigger words and only want to smash demons and there followers, not everything in sight."
Nelrene said, "they really aren't that bad, in my experience. They're better than the Spooks. Black cloaks and hoods... nearly attacked the first one I saw, thinking it a demon. All dark and mysterious, and they always seem sort of half-asleep." "I never really minded the Spooks, myself. Not exactly fun guys, but they're a lot calmer than the other high-rankers. A Spook will let you just slack off and just sigh and mutter about mortals wasting their short little lives. I wouldn't dare try that near a Seraph."
Nelrene rolled her eyes, and said, "yeah, the Seraphs. Something about the flaming sword seems to make 'em go madder than a Balseraph with scorpions stuffed down his pants. I hear the ones who work for Lugus are pretty pleasant, but the ones under the Mercurian flag? If they aren't fighting, they aren't happy. When a Valkyrie isn't fighting, you can actually hold a conversation with them. It'll usually be about military logistics, battle plans, tactics, or what happens to soldiers who waste time chatting when there's work to be done, but they sometimes let their guard down, so you could almost think you were talking to a mortal... albeit one without much in the way of humor. No worse than some living Confessors, I suppose. But Seraphs? When people are looking, they're the perfect image of military discipline, and seem to expect it of everyone else. Catch one when they think nobody's around, though, and they'll just sit there... burning things, with this odd little smile on their face..."
Boris said, "never seen that before. I don't think I'd want to be caught spying on a Seraph, though, so I'll keep it that way. But I think we can agree on one thing: the Repentant are terrifying." Nelrene said, "More pitiful, if you want my opinion. Can't quite shake off mortality. Stuck between life and death. Yeah, it's a bit unsettling. Well, a lot unsettling. But they're not as spooky as the Spooks, and at least you know there's something human in there." "Yeah," Boris said, "and it doesn't like what it's become. Why do you think I pull a disappearing act whenever a Herald shows up? Oh sure, they seem all fun and nice, way more talkative and friendly than any other winged types, but then they blow that horn, and... well, nobody ever comes back from that without a new pair of wings."
Nelrene said, "you didn't sign up to become an angel, eh? What brings you under the Mercurian banner, then?" "I like the thought of a horde of fanatics and a pack of heavily armed, battle-hungry angels between me and my brother. I'm Hippus, ya see, but I couldn't ride a horse to save my life. I'm good at three things: swords, archery, and making love." When Nelrene glared at him, he said, "sorry, just stating a fact. Take it as you will. Point is, I was always the black sheep of the family. So when me and my brother's betrothed spent a night together... well, let's just say nothing kills the moment quite like your brother coming in and sticking a sword to your throat, while you're stark naked and drunk on some abomination a fat Balseraph scholar sold you. Not sure how I escaped, but I ain't going back now. The worst part? The girl was the daughter of an important chieftain, but she could've been mistaken for her horse on a rainy day. Not worth it, by any stretch. Alright, ma'am. You don't seem so enthusiastic about this 'holy war' thing either. Your story?"
She sighed, and said, "Bannor. I'm a Confessor's daughter. Theoretically, I'm allowed to love and marry, but there are certain rules, spoken and unspoken, about who I'm supposed to date. Foreigners? Mostly off limits. Non-believers? Almost always off limits. Svartalfar? Thoroughly, totally, and completely off limits." "So you spent a night with a Svartalfar guy, and now your father wants your head?" Nelrene said, "basically. Point is, I got found, and the old man was none too happy. Not trusting the Order's system of justice, I made a run for it. When I joined the Mercurians, the old man either decided I was seeking repentance, or that he didn't want to start a squabble with them. Either way, problem solved, and I'm never going near Svartalfar women again." Boris said, "Wise words. I knew a guy who... wait, did you just say..."
Nelrene cut him off. "Anyways, becoming an angel can't be all bad, right? I mean, the wings, the eternal youth..." "if you don't go nutty as a Repentant first, or lose your humanity and turn into a killing machine..." "yeah, true. But some of the low-rank angels, they're still fun enough. Might seem a bit businesslike to you, but they're not much worse than the average Bannor. They'll joke, laugh, and enjoy life when a high-ranker isn't around to give 'em a lecture on 'holy duty.' And with those flying chariot guys? Who knows? They're always shooting around the skies on 'training exercises,' but I think they're enjoying it." Boris said, "I'll give you that. Promise me one of those in the next life, and I'll be first in line to stick a rusty knife up a Balor's ass." Nelrene breathed a sigh of relief, while Boris watched the sky, imagining flying through the air in one of the great chariots of the angels.