"A new day dawns for this world, may it be the first day without Nemraike!" Eirwa's mind rings with the telepathic broadcast of her angelic commander as she hovers amongst the clouds above some verdant plain.

Eirwa barely registers the announcement, she's heard similar phrases nearly every day for almost six centuries now, the span of the war against Nemraike and her demons. The mortals continue on with a strange sense of normality as this divine war rages, too many generations have lived and died and the mortals have such short memories.. or was it lives?

Most of them are faithful enough, Eirwa supposes. Their fervor waxes and wanes. They care deeply when demons threaten their homes, or when some prophet’s voice stokes their soul's flame in the public square. Otherwise, they pray, bargain, complain, harvest, marry, and die.

It is no matter. Eirwa was made to shoulder this burden.

"In Baizra's name, by her grace..." She murmurs in answer to the call, her eyes scanning the landscape from behind her helm. When she focuses she can see swarms of gnats or a little field mouse scurrying between the grasses.

"And hopefully soon." Eirwa mutters as she searches.

The chances that she actually sees something are slim, but she could always sense an incursion as well...