Post by Baalbatos on Mar 18, 2016 18:31:29 GMT -5
(Thread PL: 16,579)
(Heavy Weights on)
Baalbatos’s nose was buried deep in the scroll of the first of the set of scrolls he had bought from Xun Sun. He could scarcely take his eyes from them. The demon had been studying it since morning, since even before the sun had risen for the day. His eyes had scarcely left the texts since he had begun. In fact, he was even unaware that he was alone in the darkness of his ship, and that the sun had risen high in the sky. For all he knew, Lord Qrowen was still sleeping nearby, but that was unlikely. It would not be like the Kold Demon Lord to sleep in.
Baalbatos’s eyes and body ached. His eyes because they had spent the past several hours reading a scroll by dim light and they were now practically begging for a break, and his body because of the combined pressure of his training weights and how he had found himself hunched over his tiny desk. But neither would get a break, not just yet. Baalbatos was far more interested in what the scroll had to say than relieving the stress on his body. The text was engrossing, like a finely written novel or the like.
Baalbatos’s eyes moved across the page. The scroll was written in demon script. Or at least a form of it. On occasion, Baalbatos’s eyes fell upon a character he did not know, or had only seen in the oldest of the demonic carvings. These texts were old if their archaic script was anything to go by. Baalbatos considered himself a student and appreciater of many things, history included. But that was not the real reason that he was interested so much in the scroll. No, it contained knowledge, secrets, esoteric and demonic arcane arts passed through the ages, whispered by the great magi of the Demon Realm. Or, thought Baalbatos cynically, a rather talented hoaxer.
Baalbatos had quickly realized the scroll began with a foreword from the writer. The writer claimed to be a woman named, as Baalbatos read it, Fornosia. This Fornos spoke at great length about her great power in wizardry and her infinite wisdom and godly intelligence. Baalbatos had rolled his eyes and nearly skipped over the beginning, but not before something caught his eye: Fornosia wrote of a great rift that had plucked her from her from Makaii. Baalbatos remembered how his heart had skipped a beat, and how he was suddenly very invested in what he was reading. What Fornosia had described was just like the very rift that had ripped him from the demon realm and deposited him on Earth. It was as if Baalbatos had found the first clue to solving a mystery that had plagued him for the longest time.
And what was more, this Fornosia claimed she was working on a way to return to the demon realm, some spellcraft to reserve the rift that had brought her to Earth in the first place. And this was more than enough to encourage Baalbatos to keep on reading.
But quickly, it became obvious that the first scroll did not contain the secret to this method of travel the sorceress had been crafting. Crestfallen, Baalbatos read on and soon his spirit returned again. The first scroll was not useless after all. It contained something of incredible interest to Baalbatos: a series of treatises on battlemagic written by Fornosia. He remembered reading the first paragraph, just as the sun outside was beginning to rise. The way she wrote of her power… Baalbatos had never dreamed of applying his own in such a way. Perhaps, he had told himself, this Fornosia was not just blowing hot air.
Baalbatos had always held his own power in high regard, and by many standards, he was quite accomplished. But these techniques and theories went above his own. Above anything he had ever seen from another of his kind. And the lilac skinned demon’s lips curled up in a smile as he considered just how potent they would be in his own hands. And he was itching to try them. It took much of his will power to keep himself from running outside the ship the second he had read about these powers and immediately trying to master them. No, he was going to do this properly. He was going to read the whole section, and make sure that he truly understood it. Baalbatos almost felt as if he were studying for a test. And perhaps, the demon thought to himself, he was. A test of his own power. Yes, that was it. The demon could certainly make use of such a test. It was a good way to measure his own progress. And even make more of it. And Baalbatos definitely wanted more power. A nation would not build itself.
Finally, Baalbatos finished. With a giddy sigh, he set the scroll aside, rerolling it and setting it back with the other ones. Baalbatos pushed himself up from his chair, his joints cracking as they rose. Hell, he thought, just how long had he been sitting there? Slowly, he hobbled over to the door of the craft, and it slid open immediately to allow him passage. Light filled the dimness of the spaceship and it stung Baalbatos’s eyes. “Damn,” he growled, “Maybe I should have opened a window.”
Baalbatos stumbled out of his ship and faced the day, holding his hands above his eyes, as if to shield them from the light of day. But it was not long before his eyes adjusted as he walked. He’d need his space if he was to practice what he had gleaned from the scrolls.
Finally, Baalbatos reached a clearing, a short while away from his ship. This, he told himself, would do quite nicely. At least for his purposes, as destructive as they might be. Baalbatos twiddled with his cloak, adjusting it so that he might have an easier time of what was coming next.
Baalbatos held up his hand. His demonic powers began to course throughout his body, working their way through him. And Baalbatos was already applying the lessons he had learned from Fornosia’s teachings. The way he held himself, the way he focused and what he focused on… All were markedly better once he accounted for what he'd learned. That bloody red began to form in the palm of his hand. Yes, he thought, this was going well. A little more and he’d have perfected the new tricks of his.
With a last push, Baalbatos expelled the magical energy from the palm of his hand. A dark beam of crimson cut across the way in front of him, leaving a deep rut in the ground before him.
Perfect, he thought. Just the results he had wanted. Why, he thought to himself, if he kept this up and continued his readings, he might rival the power of Lord Qrowen before long. And that was a pleasant thought.
(Attempting to learn (OT-3) Hell‘s Bloody Crimson Lance. I’d like PL for this, please! With heavy weights and LMB, please!)
(Heavy Weights on)
Baalbatos’s nose was buried deep in the scroll of the first of the set of scrolls he had bought from Xun Sun. He could scarcely take his eyes from them. The demon had been studying it since morning, since even before the sun had risen for the day. His eyes had scarcely left the texts since he had begun. In fact, he was even unaware that he was alone in the darkness of his ship, and that the sun had risen high in the sky. For all he knew, Lord Qrowen was still sleeping nearby, but that was unlikely. It would not be like the Kold Demon Lord to sleep in.
Baalbatos’s eyes and body ached. His eyes because they had spent the past several hours reading a scroll by dim light and they were now practically begging for a break, and his body because of the combined pressure of his training weights and how he had found himself hunched over his tiny desk. But neither would get a break, not just yet. Baalbatos was far more interested in what the scroll had to say than relieving the stress on his body. The text was engrossing, like a finely written novel or the like.
Baalbatos’s eyes moved across the page. The scroll was written in demon script. Or at least a form of it. On occasion, Baalbatos’s eyes fell upon a character he did not know, or had only seen in the oldest of the demonic carvings. These texts were old if their archaic script was anything to go by. Baalbatos considered himself a student and appreciater of many things, history included. But that was not the real reason that he was interested so much in the scroll. No, it contained knowledge, secrets, esoteric and demonic arcane arts passed through the ages, whispered by the great magi of the Demon Realm. Or, thought Baalbatos cynically, a rather talented hoaxer.
Baalbatos had quickly realized the scroll began with a foreword from the writer. The writer claimed to be a woman named, as Baalbatos read it, Fornosia. This Fornos spoke at great length about her great power in wizardry and her infinite wisdom and godly intelligence. Baalbatos had rolled his eyes and nearly skipped over the beginning, but not before something caught his eye: Fornosia wrote of a great rift that had plucked her from her from Makaii. Baalbatos remembered how his heart had skipped a beat, and how he was suddenly very invested in what he was reading. What Fornosia had described was just like the very rift that had ripped him from the demon realm and deposited him on Earth. It was as if Baalbatos had found the first clue to solving a mystery that had plagued him for the longest time.
And what was more, this Fornosia claimed she was working on a way to return to the demon realm, some spellcraft to reserve the rift that had brought her to Earth in the first place. And this was more than enough to encourage Baalbatos to keep on reading.
But quickly, it became obvious that the first scroll did not contain the secret to this method of travel the sorceress had been crafting. Crestfallen, Baalbatos read on and soon his spirit returned again. The first scroll was not useless after all. It contained something of incredible interest to Baalbatos: a series of treatises on battlemagic written by Fornosia. He remembered reading the first paragraph, just as the sun outside was beginning to rise. The way she wrote of her power… Baalbatos had never dreamed of applying his own in such a way. Perhaps, he had told himself, this Fornosia was not just blowing hot air.
Baalbatos had always held his own power in high regard, and by many standards, he was quite accomplished. But these techniques and theories went above his own. Above anything he had ever seen from another of his kind. And the lilac skinned demon’s lips curled up in a smile as he considered just how potent they would be in his own hands. And he was itching to try them. It took much of his will power to keep himself from running outside the ship the second he had read about these powers and immediately trying to master them. No, he was going to do this properly. He was going to read the whole section, and make sure that he truly understood it. Baalbatos almost felt as if he were studying for a test. And perhaps, the demon thought to himself, he was. A test of his own power. Yes, that was it. The demon could certainly make use of such a test. It was a good way to measure his own progress. And even make more of it. And Baalbatos definitely wanted more power. A nation would not build itself.
Finally, Baalbatos finished. With a giddy sigh, he set the scroll aside, rerolling it and setting it back with the other ones. Baalbatos pushed himself up from his chair, his joints cracking as they rose. Hell, he thought, just how long had he been sitting there? Slowly, he hobbled over to the door of the craft, and it slid open immediately to allow him passage. Light filled the dimness of the spaceship and it stung Baalbatos’s eyes. “Damn,” he growled, “Maybe I should have opened a window.”
Baalbatos stumbled out of his ship and faced the day, holding his hands above his eyes, as if to shield them from the light of day. But it was not long before his eyes adjusted as he walked. He’d need his space if he was to practice what he had gleaned from the scrolls.
Finally, Baalbatos reached a clearing, a short while away from his ship. This, he told himself, would do quite nicely. At least for his purposes, as destructive as they might be. Baalbatos twiddled with his cloak, adjusting it so that he might have an easier time of what was coming next.
Baalbatos held up his hand. His demonic powers began to course throughout his body, working their way through him. And Baalbatos was already applying the lessons he had learned from Fornosia’s teachings. The way he held himself, the way he focused and what he focused on… All were markedly better once he accounted for what he'd learned. That bloody red began to form in the palm of his hand. Yes, he thought, this was going well. A little more and he’d have perfected the new tricks of his.
With a last push, Baalbatos expelled the magical energy from the palm of his hand. A dark beam of crimson cut across the way in front of him, leaving a deep rut in the ground before him.
Perfect, he thought. Just the results he had wanted. Why, he thought to himself, if he kept this up and continued his readings, he might rival the power of Lord Qrowen before long. And that was a pleasant thought.
(Attempting to learn (OT-3) Hell‘s Bloody Crimson Lance. I’d like PL for this, please! With heavy weights and LMB, please!)
