Post by Baalbatos on Feb 7, 2017 19:33:27 GMT -5
(Thread PL: 82,699. HWC on. Weighted PL: 20,674.)
Cervez
Baalbatos had been busy since he had taken over the Earth's legendary Crane School from its previous master, Saki. First, the lilac skinned demon had expelled all of Saki's previous students. Lowly scum, he thought, each and every last one of them. Hand picked by a man whose had too much sympathy for trash and not enough grey matter between his ears. Baalbatos's lips curled into a sneer at the very thought of them, and he hated to imagine what it would be like if they were traipsing around the Crane Temple, his temple. Baalbatos leaned back in his sheet, a modern swivel chair set in front of a heavy wooden desk laden with ancient scrolls. In an odd juxtaposition, various modern technology like datapads and his own rather large computer monitor sat on top of the desk. He stared blankly at the screen and drummed his fingers against the arms of his chair. Slowly, he peered around the room. The room, of course, was practically ancient. Built many centuries ago, the Crane temple had been home to many a tradition in the past, the powerful techniques that were once renowned and feared across the land for the awesome power that they wielded.
But now, the Crane School had passed from the hands of Earthlings to that of a son of Makaii. And, he thought, by courtesy of one silly little android named Saki. Baalbatos had to suppress a chuckle, thinking of how he had used the man since the beginning, secretly coveting the techniques of the Crane school, all while trying his damndest to gain the power to conquer. Not that he'd gained that power courtesy of Saki. Just as Baalbatos had been about to master the Crane arts by Saki's mentoring, the fool had disappeared. And that would not do at all. So, Baalbatos had taken matters into his own hands: he'd stormed into the temple and found the secret scrolls detailing the ancient arts and ultimate techniques of the Crane school. Techniques that now belong to Baalbatos himself. He'd even blown a hole in the wall of this very office during his testing. Which, of course, he had had repaired. Baalbatos hated the draft it caused.
Rising from his chair, the weighted cloak on his body making him heavy, Baalbatos left his desk behind and made for the courtyard of the temple. The demon had started a small garden there, and it had become his hobby to tend it. He grew roses. Beautiful, but dangerous to the touch.
Baalbatos liked the thorns of a rose the most.
But as he strolled into the courtyard, the noon sun high above, he could not help but wonder what the day brought. Occasionally, he got visitors. But he turned most away. Earthling pilgrims or remnants of Saki's trash crew, people who made him sick. Perhaps one day, somebody who caught his interest would visit the temple. And Baalbatos eagerly awaited that day, for he was easily bored and liked to be entertained.
WC: 502
Cervez
Baalbatos had been busy since he had taken over the Earth's legendary Crane School from its previous master, Saki. First, the lilac skinned demon had expelled all of Saki's previous students. Lowly scum, he thought, each and every last one of them. Hand picked by a man whose had too much sympathy for trash and not enough grey matter between his ears. Baalbatos's lips curled into a sneer at the very thought of them, and he hated to imagine what it would be like if they were traipsing around the Crane Temple, his temple. Baalbatos leaned back in his sheet, a modern swivel chair set in front of a heavy wooden desk laden with ancient scrolls. In an odd juxtaposition, various modern technology like datapads and his own rather large computer monitor sat on top of the desk. He stared blankly at the screen and drummed his fingers against the arms of his chair. Slowly, he peered around the room. The room, of course, was practically ancient. Built many centuries ago, the Crane temple had been home to many a tradition in the past, the powerful techniques that were once renowned and feared across the land for the awesome power that they wielded.
But now, the Crane School had passed from the hands of Earthlings to that of a son of Makaii. And, he thought, by courtesy of one silly little android named Saki. Baalbatos had to suppress a chuckle, thinking of how he had used the man since the beginning, secretly coveting the techniques of the Crane school, all while trying his damndest to gain the power to conquer. Not that he'd gained that power courtesy of Saki. Just as Baalbatos had been about to master the Crane arts by Saki's mentoring, the fool had disappeared. And that would not do at all. So, Baalbatos had taken matters into his own hands: he'd stormed into the temple and found the secret scrolls detailing the ancient arts and ultimate techniques of the Crane school. Techniques that now belong to Baalbatos himself. He'd even blown a hole in the wall of this very office during his testing. Which, of course, he had had repaired. Baalbatos hated the draft it caused.
Rising from his chair, the weighted cloak on his body making him heavy, Baalbatos left his desk behind and made for the courtyard of the temple. The demon had started a small garden there, and it had become his hobby to tend it. He grew roses. Beautiful, but dangerous to the touch.
Baalbatos liked the thorns of a rose the most.
But as he strolled into the courtyard, the noon sun high above, he could not help but wonder what the day brought. Occasionally, he got visitors. But he turned most away. Earthling pilgrims or remnants of Saki's trash crew, people who made him sick. Perhaps one day, somebody who caught his interest would visit the temple. And Baalbatos eagerly awaited that day, for he was easily bored and liked to be entertained.
WC: 502