This page has been created to showcase personal works of the many talented members of The Angels of Hell.   Things you may find here are in no particular order, and range anywhere from artwork to stories to poems to just all kinds of neat stuff.


Where did my muse go?
My imagination is not lost
On idle wishes and vain fantasy
I did not wish to toss her aside
Like some child full of pride
And spoiled self imagery, but
Yet I play these games full of illusions

And quick imagery such as the mortal mind darenot conceive in thought
Or dream the imagery of angels combating in hell to free the souls
Of mortal man, doth quicken my pulse some to extreme adjuration.

Oh what do I do Iam lost without words and thoughts?
But fear has a grip on my soul as death with her icy fingers
On all of us as we venture forth into the depth of hell
Who will come out victorious and slay the monster of nights and days
And release my muse and her wildly quirky ways.

Princess Shera

June 23 1998

The Probe

A new, unfamiliar sky greets me
As I leave the nexus
Abandoning the bright, protective shelter
And the companionship of my peers,
I pierce the gloom of unknown dangers
Devouring darkness with ferocious zeal
I clear a path for those who follow.

For Aiur I create:
First the matrix then the base
Surround it with cannons
The foundation is set.
Who would imagine
What one left alone can accomplish?

I am a creator, a gatherer, a seeker, a destroyer
I can do nothing or everything
And some may never know of it
Though my work is on display;
Still, a mere peon that I am,
I am content, knowing that I have created
A masterpiece.

Xi (09/20/98)


Sky rainbows towering monuments of color
arcing overhead,
A humble tribute to a wrath of clouds;
Like the swirling patterns on polished wood
Whose unseen energy fires the fury of my spells,
Beneath the town where darkness reigns;
Like the heart-born thrill from a battle well fought
Amidst friends who move in sync:
A marvelous ballet of instinct and innovation;
Serves to remind us that the things we cannot own
Are the things we keep the longest.

From Darkness We Come

Clouds turn sky to ash
Marring land with shadow
Before your journey's end
You see through eyes of mind
Sunrays pierce the gloom
As the way becomes you

Twilight marks the passage
Silently it comes
No more your mind will serve
The way no longer known
'til the heart masters fear
As the will becomes you

Flames scour the forest
Centurians devoured
Before the winter's chill
A sapling reaches out
No longer you deny
As darkness becomes you.

To this place we gather
Just inside the dawn
Diverse as may we be
Our hearts speak as one
In ways we cannot count
As this life becomes us.

Xi 6/18/98
The Story Of Billy The Templair

It was a day to remember
In the midst of a war.
It took place in september
Or a month or two before.

The bugs pushed on past
through the great terran fire.
And in the hills at last
Came the call "My life for aiur"

A young templair cryed
and the psi stome strucked.
As the bug's swarms died
he thought they were F--ked.

Billy pressed twards them
and continued to advance
The zerg snuck behind him
and started to dance.

And out of the blue
the bugs came and flyed
What could he do?
He just sat there and died.

As the bugs circled in
and they lept through the fog.
They killed Billys kin.
and even his dog.

And from this story
I hope it is heard
That if things get gory
You'll hear from the zurg.

For when all is dead
and theres no more fire
A battle cry echoes inside your head
And its not "For Aiur"

For no matter the goons
Or the psionic storm
For every one swoons....
When It comes. To THE SWARM.


Master Zen vs. }ArchXAngel{ --- Round 1


After trying to run the server at both my castle and his, with little success ping-wise...both participants agreed to a common server. Netplex was to
be the battleground. Averaging a 250 ping, borderline acceptable thanx to Ver. 3.15, the
combatants dropped onto the field. With 14 murderous fools already hyped for battle, there was little time to waste. Before me lay the Super-Shotgun...}AXA{'s preferred weapon of choice. I scooped it up and started the rampage. Zen had already wasted 4 of the dogs by the time I got my first shot. Taking it...blood splattered and my foe flew feet up onto his back. Close range super-shotgun is unstoppable.

I crept around the corners, sliding to and fro in search of the next victim. I found her weakly blasting in the distance. I broke into a trot, leaping directly into her line of fire...I wasted her like she deserved, then, turning in my crouch, I tore into her intended with ease...shrill screaming as the buckshot tore him open. I had found the zone...now we fight. Taking a glance at the stats, Master Zen was hot. He was dropping them like flies, easily outgunning me - his frag count rose. Everywhere lay the carnage of the dead. Many a time did I take attacks and even hit the floor on several occassion...but to no avail - I could not be contained. Slowly I gained on the Master. Our paths may have crossed twice or three times...maybe more. Too much action to read who was dying - there were more to be killed. Time was running out. Zen still led. I happened across a rocket launcher - then the elusive Quad! - grabbing them I unleashed the fury of an Angel gone mad.

I lept off of my perch into a room crazed with blaster fire. First one, then another fell under by relentless onslaught. I kept pumping my rockets till all laid slain at my feet. Wiping the blood from my eyes, I waded throught the twisted bodies to find a health-pack...God knows I needed it. No luck, the time-limit had been hit. Looking with suprise at the scores....I had outgunned the Master 25 to 24 kills. Truly the best fight of my career as a hunter. I look forward to our next savage encounter, almighty Master Zen.

Night Below

Chapter 1

I walked through Tristram's market square, cunningly nicknamed the Trading Post, on my way to Ogden's Tavern. I occassionally drop by the Tavern (or Dive, as some of my friends have christened it) to catch up on all the bickering, and, occassionaly, storytelling. This night, however, I had a more serious purpose in going there. My compatriots were holding a meeting, and I had a proposition for them.

I was just leaving the outskirts of the Post when I happened to pass Hairy. Hairy, along with Woody, had started a group of Sorcerors who eschewed everything but cursed items. Beyond Naked Mages, I thought to myself. Sheesh, they could have at least thought of a more original name. I swear, I will never understand how Sorcerors think.

However, I felt an obligation to needle Hairy, and, indirectly, Woody. "Hey, Hairy, how's Woody enjoying that Clumsy Longbow of the Pit I gave him? I hope it hasn't gotten him killed yet." Hairy's only reply was a noncommital grunt, so I guess my remark hit home. He continued on towards the Post, as I made my way into the Town Square.

I was in the Town Square now, where many voices could be heard. Most were concentrated in one corner, which was roped off and had a signpost, labeled Newbies Only. Strangely enough, I could see many adventurers there in high-quality equipment. Plate armour, war bows, the works. As I watched, a Warrior in full plate, weilding a staff, pulled a seemingly unlimited amount of equipment from his backpack, and began distributing it to the howling newbies. I hated seeing this, this sorcery of the darkest kind. Although there was not much I could do about it, I realized that most of the newbies would soon recognise their folly, as I had, so long ago.

Suddenly I was struck by a wave of vertigo. Had it been that long ago that I had first made my way into this little town I now called home? So long ago that I barely remembered my first excursion into the ruined cathedral? That I couldn't remember the names of the kind souls who had helped me to learn the ropes of the dungeon beneath Tristram?

It had been.

Feeling light-headed, I made my way to the water fountain in the middle of town and sat on its edge, careful not to get my equipment wet. Rust is such a pain. While I was splashing water on my face, I felt a presence behind me. "Hello," I said, "and you are?"

"It's me, War," said a quiet voice. I recognised it immediately. It was Aahzmadius, the second most powerful Sorceror I know, and definitely the one I respect most. I guess part of the reason I respect him so much is that I can't understand half of what he says when he really gets worked up. I know it's stereotypical, but us Warriors, we like things simple. How am I supposed to know all these ten- and twelve-letter words he's always spouting? He must know a lot of stuff if he knows those kinds of words.

"Oh, high, Aahz," I said. I wondered what had brought him out to the middle of town. He was usually fairly reclusive; I don't think I had ever seen him out and about in the town proper. "What brings you out among us laypeople?" I asked, almost half in jest.

"I was on my way to Adria's hut, and I noticed you seemed a bit depressed. Want to talk about it?" He seemed worried. I pride myself on being tough, but this touched me.

"Nah, I'm just feeling my age. I'll be fine."

He laughed lightly. "I know the feeling. I'm getting too old for romping around in the dungeon, myself. Everyone has to deal with it in their own way, but always remember this: 'Stay stoked'."

I didn't really know what he meant by that, but he obviously meant well, so I nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, I will. You going to be at the meeting?" I didn't really expect him to be, but I had to ask.

"Nah, I'll only be here a little while longer, then I have to take care of some things in Real Life." Now I was really confused. This was life, and it was real. I shrugged mental shoulders. Sorcerors will be Sorcerors.

"OK, and thanks for the support, Aahz." I gave him a weak smile to show I was fine.

"No prob. Hasta," he said, then he was gone.

Once again I began making my way toward the Tavern. This time I made it there without any more difficulties. I stopped at the entrance, squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door before I could change my mind.


Night Below

Chapter 2

As I stepped into the tavern I was hit by a wall of noise. I stopped just inside the doorway, to give my eyes time to adjust to the lighting, which was comparably darker inside than out, as well as to take stock of Ogden's current clientele.

As usual, most of the patrons sat together in small groups, although here and there several tables had been pushed together, or a large group had appropriated a longtable. There were representatives of every guild I knew of, and quite a few that I did not know of, seated at various places inside the tavern.

An argument in one corner drew my atention. One man sat across a table from twelve others, and their shouts were drowning out most of the other conversations in that area. On closer inspection I recognised the lone figure. It was TheMan! I smiled. A visit to Ogden's wouldn't be the same without TheMan starting an argument. It may be nicer, but it wouldn't be the same. I leaned against a wall for a couple of minutes and tried to follow the "discussion." Apparently the twelve were alternately insulting him, his parental lineage, and anything else that came to mind, and he was throwing them right back. I smiled again as someone called him "TheBoy." I didn't think either side was going to make any progress, but it was still funny.

Again allowing my gaze to roam, I noticed a small knot of Snakegod and Tarot members sitting together. Among them were Salmissra, Lok, Zamp, Strech, nIGHT, and several others I did not immediately recognise. Making eye contact with Strech, I slowly nodded.

I had once given him a magical amulet, which increased one's resistance to hostile magics while absorbing some of the force of physical blows. He had later alerted me to the fact that it had been magically duplicated. After that fiasco I never dealt with the trader I had gotten it from again, but I still feel shamed. I wanted Strech to know that, if ever there was anything he needed of me, I would oblige him.

As he returned the nod, I knew he had gotten my message. Although we may not be as wise to the ways of the Art as our sorcerous brethren, we do seem to have a "sixth sense", if you will. He knew that I regretted what had happened, and that I would strive to redeem myself.

I stepped away from the wall. I had spent too much time already; I had to join my guildmates. Spotting them seated at the other end of the tavern, I began to thread my way between tables, occasionally jostling someone.

"Today I killed a chicken-"

"...man, are those ghouls tough..."

"On Great Lakes today Yew totally lagged-"

"-I even managed to tame a-"

I cursed myself. I had unwittingly stumbled into a nest of Brittanians. What they were doing in Tristram is anyone's guess, but I really wish they wouldn't take up valuable space in Ogden's. Just then a particularly big and burly guy stood up, backing into me.

"Hey, you! Whaddaya think you're doin', pushin' me?" He asked as he gave me a shove. He stepped forward, apparently not noticing the sizable sword I had sheathed at my hip. I gave him a tight smile, and then turned away; that's when his hand shot out and grabbed me by the shoulder. "Hey, we don' like yellow-bellied cowards here, do we boys?" the guy said. His cohorts chortled at this new turn of events. His hand began to tighten.

It was at times like this that I regretted the fact that Ogden insisted that peaceknots be tied over the hilt of every blade. Nothing would have pleased me more at the moment than seeing what color _his_ belly was. However, I realized that if I drew my blade, everyone else in the tavern would draw theirs, and I would be the instigator of a bloodbath. I also noticed several of my guildmates standing, to come to my aid if I needed it. I waved them back. I could handle the situation; and besides, Ogden has been known to charge hefty fees for furniture broken in brawls.

I turned back to Burly (as I had named him), and gave him another smile, which did not reach my eyes. "Perhaps, _friend_," I said, "you could let me be on my way. I had no intention of jostling you, and I don't think Ogden is in the mood for a fight." He seemed to mull it over; evidently he had been drinking more than a little.

Then he shook his head and drew his other arm back. "No, you pushed me and now I'm gonna teach you some manners!" His fist shot toward my face. I thrust my hand up, pushing his punch aside, then wrapped my arm around his, locking his elbow, and gave him an open-hand strike to the shoulder.

There was a loud "Pop!" and he stumbled back, clutching his arm to his side. "It's dislocated," I said, "Have Pepin fix it up for you. And while you're there, get him to sober you up." By this time his friends had stood up, and looked about ready to rush me, until I gazed their way. Then they scattered like Fallen Ones.

As I once again began making my way toward the table my guildmates sat at, I noticed Ogden out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to be gesturing to me. Heading towards the bar, I greeted him. "How's business lately, Ogden?" "Oh, it hasn't been bad," he said, "and thank you for persuading those goons to leave, they were scaring off some of my customers." He set a mug of ale down in front of me. "On the house. For preventing a brawl."

"Just protecting your interests. I can imagine how hard it must be to get wood around here." Ogden just gave me a wan smile. Saluting him with the mug, I turned around.

And ran straight into a drunkard. "You all will be destroyed! I will destroy all of you! I will destroy the Angels of Hell!" he rambled. It took me several seconds to realize who this was. When finally I did, I couldn't speak for several seconds. It was Maluttr. The man who, for reasons unkown to me, had decided to singlehandedly destroy my guild. At any other time I would have eagerly suggested to him that we "step outside", but seeing him dressed in rags and stinking of spirits, I couldn't bring myself to. [Oh, how the mighty have fallen], I thought.

Giving Maluttr a shove towards the bar, I said, "Ogden, can you help Mal here find his way out of the tavern? I'm afraid he's in no condition to find it for himself." He took one look at the drunkard, and grimaced. "Sure, War, I don't know who let him in here anyway." With a gesture to a couple of bouncers, Ogden set Maluttr on his way out.

Again setting out towards the table my friends had appropriated, I began to wonder. On the way to Ogden's I had been stopped several times, and again, inside the tavern, I had had several more setbacks. Although some people may have considered them no more than coincidences, I did not. I began to fear that I was being manipulated, but by what power I did not know.

As I neared the table, I realized that only a few of my guildmates were present. There were several others, but they would not do. It appeared that my plan was doomed from the start.

Although the table could easily seat twenty, only a handful of people sat or stood around it. Seated at the head of the table, as benefitting his rank as Guildmaster, was DarkSniper. The only other Angels present were Boots, BOSTIC, and Sprite_II. The-Mule, DALLAK, and [ADH]Kim stood about, engaged in various activities.

Before stepping up to the table, I stopped to assess each individual. DarkSniper, Boots, DALLAK, and Kim were all bowmen. They were all crack shots with bows, and knew a little more of the Art than I did. Although none of them were as physically powerful as I was, I had learned to respect bows.

BOSTIC, The-Mule, and Sprite_II were Sorcerors. BOSTIC was a small figure, hunched under the heavy armour he wore. He was the last person I would imagine being able to wear plate armour, but looks can deceive. The-Mule, on the other hand, was a large, powerfully built man, who wore his armour with almost as little strain as I wore mine. I had only known him a short while, but I already respected and trusted him.

Sprite_II was a tall, gangling youth. He could not have seen more than twenty winters. He was the son of one of my original companions. Sprite had been a Warrior, and a good one at that. Although he had never been as large or strong as me, he was fast, nimble, and knew where a blade would do the most damage. His son, in contrast, was a student of the Art, but not an especially good one. He meant well, but he often got his incantations wrong, and his aim with his favorite spell, Fireball, was legendarily bad.

Coming back to my senses, I realized just how bad my situation was. Although they all were experienced adventurers, where I would be taking them I needed Warriors more than anything else.

I found myself wishing that Victoor or BallBasher could have made it, but then cast those thoughts out of my mind, reminding myself that wishful thinking would not help.

Finally stepping up to the table, I greeted each of them.

"Hey, War, how've ya been?"

"Long time no see, War!"

"Hello agian Suv... Er, War."

And then, from BOSTIC, "It's nice to see you again, War, but I believe you called us here for a reason?"

The grim set of my jaw as I acknowledged BOSTIC's remark showed them all just how urgent that reason was. I reached into a pouch at my belt and withdrew a small, pyramidal crystal. "Do you all know what this is?"

"It's a memory crystal! They can be used to store memories or scenes for playback later on!" Sprite_II said. "Where did you..." His voice trailed off as he noticed that I didn't share his excitement.

I carefully set the crystal upon the table, then addressed them all. "You all know that Stormcrow recently retired. He was getting too old to adventure, he said. But have any of you seen him _anywhere_?"

No one had.

"Then watch this," I said. I leaned over the crystal, gazed deep into it, cleared my throat, and growled, "HaSta yIcha'!" A light appeared within the crystal, and seemed to begin spinning, although the crystal itself was still. Then the light expanded upward, into the air above the crystal, and a scene began to form.

It was a dark room, with the walls seemingly formed of the bones of some large animal. In the center of the room there was an altar. It appeared to be constructed of stone, although it was covered with dried blood, staining it a dark red. Behind the altar stood a robed figure. It was not a daemon, as one would expect, although it's features were certainly demonic. Then the figure turned and gestured to something outside of the scene. Two Steel Lords entered, half-dragging a limp body between them. The body was dressed in a Sorceror's robes, and those robes had Stormcrow's unmistakable crow-over-lightningbolt crest! As the Lords dragged Stormcrow over to the robed figure behind the altar, the scene seemed to zoom in towards the altar, showing all those watching who the robed figure was.

Arch-Bishop Lazarus.

There were sounds of dismay from all those present, except me. I had seen this before and was no longer upset by it. I merely was determined that I would save my friend or die trying.

Lazarus then began speaking. "My Lord, this one has much Power within him, more than almost all the rest your minions have delivered to me. With the power this one releases, I may finally be able to break the mystical bond that traps you within this labyrinth. You will finally be able to wreak death and destruction upon the outside world! In order to extract the most power from this subject, it will be necessary to hold the ritual at the eclipse." It was not hard to tell what kind of ritual he meant; he was fingering a very large and wicked-looking dagger.

I turned back to my companions. "I have checked with Adria. There is going to be an eclipse in two days. If Stormcrow is not rescued within that timeframe, not only will we lose a dear friend, but we may loose an unimaginable scourge unto the world."

I slowly drew my sword and laid it across the table. "Who will go with me to save Stormcrow?"


Night Below

Chapter 3

There was a general uproar as everyone present pledged me his aid all at once. Then silence fell as the resounding crack of palm meeting wood was heard.

The-Mule paused, as if to make sure he had everyone's attention, then said, "I think I speak for us all, War, when I say we'll all head down there and twist Lazzy's head off with you." All the others seemed to be in agreement, and their were several "hear hear"'s, and, somewhat strangely, a "Yeehaw!"

I looked at them in a new light. They must surely know that to storm the very gates of Hell would be a suicidal mission, even for the best of us. I had hoped, yet never truly believed, that they would follow me. The knowledge that they would suffused me, lifting a weight I hadn't known I carried.

I reclaimed my sword and sheathed it. "You all know that for whoever accompanies me, this will most likely be a suicide mission."

"I always liked long odds," Boots said, "but waitaminute. What do you mean by 'for whoever accompanies me'? We're all coming!"

I shook my head slowly, my face echoing the sadness that I felt. "I'm afraid not. Due to the circumstances, I'll only be able to take three others along with me."

"What do u mean, war? The stairs are more than wide enough for all of us!" That last by DarkSniper, with a smile.

I couldn't help but to smile at that. DarkSniper always did have a, well, _unique_ way with words. But the magnitude of the situation once again forced its' way into my awareness, and the smile vanished. "'Fraid not, DS. Much as I'd like to take the whole guild down there and set up shop, it won't be possible." I reached into another pouch, and removed what looked to be a two-pronged fork. The prongs seemed to be vibrating, although they were perfectly still to the touch. Attempting to focus on one or both of them inevitably brought on a headache. Judging by everyone's reactions, they had tried to focus on it. I held it up. "A friend of mine risked his life to get me the information I'm about to tell you, so I would appreciate it if you refrained from asking for my source," I smiled grimly, "He's not exactly in the best of shapes right now. The section of the labyrinth that is pictured in the crystal is not accessible by ordinary means. There is an altar in the deepest bowels of Hell which, when this key is inserted and the proper incantation spoken, will transport the key-bearer and up to three others to the general vicinity of Lazarus' altar. The altar will also allow anyone who used it to return through it."

Everyone present turned at the sound of wood splintering. A sheepish Lil'Bro was just helping Mirandia extricate herself from the wreckage of what looked to have been a chair. "Oh, gee, Sis, I'm sorry, it's just that this big axe gets in my way sometimes..." Just then he realized that eight pairs of eyes were watching him, and blushed crimson. "Uh, guys, I can explain this, really..."

Although standing impassively, with a stony face, I smiled inwardly. Lil'Bro's naivete hid a natural Warrior. His choice of an axe over a blade and shield was unorthodox, but then again, so was nearly everything about him. He had great potential, if only he lives to realize it.

Brother and sister sat down, and I filled them in on the whole messy situation. "So, War," said Mir, "who are the Lucky 3?"

I thought on that for a long time. Finally, I came to a decision. "Those of us present who are not Angels will need to inform others of this danger, in case I fail. I'm afraid I also can't take DS, Bostic, or you, Mir. You are all needed to ready the Angels to defend Tristram. That leaves Boots, Sprite_II, and Lil'Bro. Are you with me?"

"Sure, War!" Said Sprite, "And, uh, I'll try to lay off the Fireballs, OK?"

I smiled at that. "What, am I still pink from the last one?" I turned to Lil'Bro.

"It's got to be done." I found myself admiring his resolve. Sometimes ignorance _can_ be bliss.

"And you, Boots, wanna make it an even four?"

Boots stood up slowly, looked me staright in the eyes, and growled, "Let's kick some ass!"

I nodded curtly. "All right, it's decided then. We leave at once." I stepped around the table, only to be restrained by an hand on my shoulder. I turned to see that Bostic had risen from his seat.

"War, we _will_ find a way to follow you." And I could see it. I could see in his eyes the knowledge that both he and I shared: I was leading three of my friends to their deaths.

I quickly turned away, before he could see the tears welling in my eyes. This, this had to be done. I can accept death. I have cheated it dozen of times already. But why do I have to drag friends to their end? I told myself that we would make it. Then I told myself to keep believing the lie.

The four of us said our goodbyes to those staying behind. In my case, knowing what a permanent goodbye it was likely to be. Then we left Ogden's together.

to be continued.....

smallBM.jpg (7630 bytes) smallbosmart1.jpg (10048 bytes) smallbosmart2.jpg (9930 bytes)
smallDarkSniper2.jpg (7570 bytes) smallDS5a.jpg (7259 bytes) smallmirandia.jpg (11368 bytes)
  smallorkinAoH.jpg (6686 bytes)