Post by Baalbatos on Feb 11, 2016 11:48:06 GMT -5
(Heavy weights on!)
Baalbatos ducked beneath the fist of his attacker, the weights on his body only dragging him down more quickly. His knees hit the floor as he began to roll to the side, hoping to get around his foe and turn the tables. But the Brenchian woman, Gouta, was quicker. Damn, thought Baalbatos, the Brenchians were a quick race. That high gravity home world certainly worked wonders. Baalbatos was punished for his slowness as he came up from his roll, a swift kick to the chest is what he got. He grunted and fell backwards, springing onto his hands to save himself from the embarrassment of falling to the ground. He backflipped, making a show of it. Perhaps it was inefficient, but Baalbatos considered himself something of a showman. As he came to a standstill, he held his hands triumphantly and gave a small bow. Gouta only laughed and stopped for a moment, holding still with her fists held high, bouncing back and forth in a fighting pose.
“Impressive, sir,” she admitted, “But I don’t think that is going to win you any fights. Might win you a talent show or two, but I don’t see it helping you out in a fight.”
Baalbatos smirked. “Come now, Gouta, don’t ruin my fun! And besides, you never know what might come of a backflip in battle. Perhaps my foe might be so impressed they are brought to a shocked standstill, marveling in awe of my acrobatic prowess!’ Exclaimed the lilac-skinned demon.
But this only caused the Brench to laugh. Baalbatos grinned. That slightly melodic laugh… It was something else. A shame he had little free time these days. Perhaps he would make her laugh more. But planets did not conquer themselves and native populations were not suppressed out of thin air. Laws were not established at the snap of a finger, and the iron fist with which his lord should rule would not be forged overnight. No, it would take hard work. A pity, he told himself, but there would be time later.
“Why do you laugh at me, Gouta?” Asked Baalbatos, his voice full of mock surprise, “I’m serious! Deadly serious! It might win me a battle just yet!”
“Somehow,” managed Gouta between laughs, “I doubt it. You let me know when that works out for you, sir, and I’ll take it all back.”
Baalbatos frowned, ever so slightly. “I thought I asked you not to call me ‘sir’. Baalbatos will do just fine, Gouta.”
“Sorry. Again. I’m just not used to calling you that, Baalbatos. Old habits die hard, you know? And, I’m a soldier, so they die even harder,” laughed Gouta, shaking her head.
“Very well,” sighed Baalbatos, only the shadow of a small smile peaking on his face, “But back to the matter at hand! I think my backflips are quite the effective tactic in battle. I know it for a fact that they are.”
“And why do you say that, Baalbatos?” Asked Gouta, turning her head curiously, like a cat watching something that had caught its eye.
“Because it certainly worked on you!” Exclaimed Baalbatos as he threw his arms out, sending a small, red ki blast flying towards his sparring partner. Yes, he thought, well played Baalbatos. He certainly had the Brenchian woman now. He’d turned the tables quicker than she could react.
Or so he had thought. Baalbatos’s mouth slid open as the ki blast sailed harmlessly through the Brenchian woman, the image of her fading away a second later.
“An afterimage…” he whispered to himself.
“Yep!” Shouted Gouta from behind him. Quickly, Baalbatos made to turn but even now he was not fast enough. Halfway through his turn, the fist of the Brenchian woman smashed into his face. His neck cracked, the bones in it popping. His entire world blurred together in a mass of color and sound as his body swayed like a boat caught in the ocean. He took one staggered step. And then another. And suddenly, he was vaguely aware that he was falling. The ground rose up to meet him, it seemed, and it was not soft. Quite the opposite in-fact. As his face met the hard ground, a sharp pain shot through his mind. But slowly, his eyes fluttered shut. And then it was black.
Baalbatos was awakened by the shaking of his body. Slowly, his eyes creaked open and squinted back shut as he was confronted with the light of the outside world.
“Baalbatos,” said Gouta, concern in her voice, “You need to wake up. Now. It’s very important that you do!”
Baalbatos groaned. His stomach was churning, like he’d eaten something rancid, and his head felt fuzzy and dull, as if the insides had been replaced by cotton. He opened his eyes again, this time to see Gouta’s face hovering over him.
“How long was I out?” Croaked Baalbatos, his voice low.
“Only a few seconds,” answered Gouta, “So count yourself lucky. Getting knocked out is serious business, even for someone as strong as you. It doesn’t take long for it scramble your brain like an egg.”
“Heh, lucky me, indeed. I kind of need this brain. Without, Lord Qrowen would have tossed me aside long ago, like a used rag,” struggled Baalbatos, managing a small chuckle, “Now, please, help me up.”
“Good, you still want to move. Glad to see you have motor function, still,” said Gouta softly as she helped the stocky demon to his feet. His entire body protested, but he still forced himself to rise. “Now,” she continued, “Keep moving. And careful, you might throw up.”
“Well,” coughed Baalbatos, beginning to move his legs awkwardly, “Someone sure is knowledgeable about head wounds. Do you have a history with them, or am I your first?”
Gouta chuckled and shook her head She put her arms under one of his and helped him begin to walk. “No,” she explained, “When I entered the Brenchian war academy, I had wanted to be a medic first. My father had been one, so I kind of wanted to carry on his legacy. So, I learn a bit, but before long I switched to regular soldiering. As it turns out, I was a lot better at hurting people than healing people. I guess I got more from my mom. She was a soldier, serving the Planet Trade Organization.”
“Ah, I see,” mumbled Baalbatos. The Planet Trade Organization, he thought. They were on the chopping block, just like the rest of the universe. Hopefully, he told himself, Gouta’s loyalties were solid by then. If not… Well, Baalbatos would hate to see her go, but ultimately he would have to pull the trigger.
“So,” pursued Baalbatos, “How do your parents feels about your mercenary work?”
“Well, they think I’d be better off working for the PTO,” she explained, “But really, they’re glad I made it through the war academy and that I’ve got work. They don’t know I’m working for a Kold Demon, though.”
“Well,” laughed Baalbatos, “Nix the ‘Kold’ part and just tell them you’re working for a Demon.”
“Heh, maybe I will,” laughed Gouta, “So, let’s check your memory. What can you tell me about your parents, then?”
Baalbatos barked a short laugh, but stifled it quickly as pain shot through his mind again. “I don’t have any,” stated the demon.
“Huh?” Asked Gouta, a look of confusion on your face, “What do you mean by that? Are you, like, an orphan or something?’’
“No. It’s not quite that simple, Gouta,” began Baalbatos slowly, “I simply… lack parents. I have never had any. My only ‘parent’ is the Demon Realm. You see, we Demons are a strange people. Some of us are born from flesh, yes, but some of us have more Hellish origins. There are those, like me, who are born from the dark energies of the Demon Realm, sprung to life from only the chaos of that world. That primal energy is both my mother and my father, and all the generations before. I am, so to speak, a new being. Yet, even we born from darkness are still physical beings, much like the people of this world. We have cells, we have genes. We are capable of having children. Our origins are just slightly different.”
“Oh, I see. So, uh, sorry to bring it up,” said the Brench quietly.
“No, it’s no trouble. At least you learned something. And besides, I feel I owed you a full answer. Now, hopefully, there are few questions about my origin,” he said, patting her on the back.
“Well, I suppose… Perhaps you could tell me more about yourself?” Asked Gouta, sincerity in her voice.
“Oh, as much as I love to talk about myself, Gouta, I am far more interested in learning about you,” began Baalbatos, shaking his head, “However, I hear we are out of time for today. My desk work is calling me, and Lord Qrowen will need it done. Perhaps next time we can talk some more. If you don’t knock me out again, that is.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “Sorry about that. And yeah, next time sounds great. Just be careful with your head, okay? Go to the medbay if things don’t get better.”
“Of course, Gouta,” said Baalbatos with a nod and a small, reassuring smile, “Thank you for your help today. It was nice seeing you. Until next time.”
“Until next time.”
(I'll take PL for this, please! Heavy weights on!)
Baalbatos ducked beneath the fist of his attacker, the weights on his body only dragging him down more quickly. His knees hit the floor as he began to roll to the side, hoping to get around his foe and turn the tables. But the Brenchian woman, Gouta, was quicker. Damn, thought Baalbatos, the Brenchians were a quick race. That high gravity home world certainly worked wonders. Baalbatos was punished for his slowness as he came up from his roll, a swift kick to the chest is what he got. He grunted and fell backwards, springing onto his hands to save himself from the embarrassment of falling to the ground. He backflipped, making a show of it. Perhaps it was inefficient, but Baalbatos considered himself something of a showman. As he came to a standstill, he held his hands triumphantly and gave a small bow. Gouta only laughed and stopped for a moment, holding still with her fists held high, bouncing back and forth in a fighting pose.
“Impressive, sir,” she admitted, “But I don’t think that is going to win you any fights. Might win you a talent show or two, but I don’t see it helping you out in a fight.”
Baalbatos smirked. “Come now, Gouta, don’t ruin my fun! And besides, you never know what might come of a backflip in battle. Perhaps my foe might be so impressed they are brought to a shocked standstill, marveling in awe of my acrobatic prowess!’ Exclaimed the lilac-skinned demon.
But this only caused the Brench to laugh. Baalbatos grinned. That slightly melodic laugh… It was something else. A shame he had little free time these days. Perhaps he would make her laugh more. But planets did not conquer themselves and native populations were not suppressed out of thin air. Laws were not established at the snap of a finger, and the iron fist with which his lord should rule would not be forged overnight. No, it would take hard work. A pity, he told himself, but there would be time later.
“Why do you laugh at me, Gouta?” Asked Baalbatos, his voice full of mock surprise, “I’m serious! Deadly serious! It might win me a battle just yet!”
“Somehow,” managed Gouta between laughs, “I doubt it. You let me know when that works out for you, sir, and I’ll take it all back.”
Baalbatos frowned, ever so slightly. “I thought I asked you not to call me ‘sir’. Baalbatos will do just fine, Gouta.”
“Sorry. Again. I’m just not used to calling you that, Baalbatos. Old habits die hard, you know? And, I’m a soldier, so they die even harder,” laughed Gouta, shaking her head.
“Very well,” sighed Baalbatos, only the shadow of a small smile peaking on his face, “But back to the matter at hand! I think my backflips are quite the effective tactic in battle. I know it for a fact that they are.”
“And why do you say that, Baalbatos?” Asked Gouta, turning her head curiously, like a cat watching something that had caught its eye.
“Because it certainly worked on you!” Exclaimed Baalbatos as he threw his arms out, sending a small, red ki blast flying towards his sparring partner. Yes, he thought, well played Baalbatos. He certainly had the Brenchian woman now. He’d turned the tables quicker than she could react.
Or so he had thought. Baalbatos’s mouth slid open as the ki blast sailed harmlessly through the Brenchian woman, the image of her fading away a second later.
“An afterimage…” he whispered to himself.
“Yep!” Shouted Gouta from behind him. Quickly, Baalbatos made to turn but even now he was not fast enough. Halfway through his turn, the fist of the Brenchian woman smashed into his face. His neck cracked, the bones in it popping. His entire world blurred together in a mass of color and sound as his body swayed like a boat caught in the ocean. He took one staggered step. And then another. And suddenly, he was vaguely aware that he was falling. The ground rose up to meet him, it seemed, and it was not soft. Quite the opposite in-fact. As his face met the hard ground, a sharp pain shot through his mind. But slowly, his eyes fluttered shut. And then it was black.
Baalbatos was awakened by the shaking of his body. Slowly, his eyes creaked open and squinted back shut as he was confronted with the light of the outside world.
“Baalbatos,” said Gouta, concern in her voice, “You need to wake up. Now. It’s very important that you do!”
Baalbatos groaned. His stomach was churning, like he’d eaten something rancid, and his head felt fuzzy and dull, as if the insides had been replaced by cotton. He opened his eyes again, this time to see Gouta’s face hovering over him.
“How long was I out?” Croaked Baalbatos, his voice low.
“Only a few seconds,” answered Gouta, “So count yourself lucky. Getting knocked out is serious business, even for someone as strong as you. It doesn’t take long for it scramble your brain like an egg.”
“Heh, lucky me, indeed. I kind of need this brain. Without, Lord Qrowen would have tossed me aside long ago, like a used rag,” struggled Baalbatos, managing a small chuckle, “Now, please, help me up.”
“Good, you still want to move. Glad to see you have motor function, still,” said Gouta softly as she helped the stocky demon to his feet. His entire body protested, but he still forced himself to rise. “Now,” she continued, “Keep moving. And careful, you might throw up.”
“Well,” coughed Baalbatos, beginning to move his legs awkwardly, “Someone sure is knowledgeable about head wounds. Do you have a history with them, or am I your first?”
Gouta chuckled and shook her head She put her arms under one of his and helped him begin to walk. “No,” she explained, “When I entered the Brenchian war academy, I had wanted to be a medic first. My father had been one, so I kind of wanted to carry on his legacy. So, I learn a bit, but before long I switched to regular soldiering. As it turns out, I was a lot better at hurting people than healing people. I guess I got more from my mom. She was a soldier, serving the Planet Trade Organization.”
“Ah, I see,” mumbled Baalbatos. The Planet Trade Organization, he thought. They were on the chopping block, just like the rest of the universe. Hopefully, he told himself, Gouta’s loyalties were solid by then. If not… Well, Baalbatos would hate to see her go, but ultimately he would have to pull the trigger.
“So,” pursued Baalbatos, “How do your parents feels about your mercenary work?”
“Well, they think I’d be better off working for the PTO,” she explained, “But really, they’re glad I made it through the war academy and that I’ve got work. They don’t know I’m working for a Kold Demon, though.”
“Well,” laughed Baalbatos, “Nix the ‘Kold’ part and just tell them you’re working for a Demon.”
“Heh, maybe I will,” laughed Gouta, “So, let’s check your memory. What can you tell me about your parents, then?”
Baalbatos barked a short laugh, but stifled it quickly as pain shot through his mind again. “I don’t have any,” stated the demon.
“Huh?” Asked Gouta, a look of confusion on your face, “What do you mean by that? Are you, like, an orphan or something?’’
“No. It’s not quite that simple, Gouta,” began Baalbatos slowly, “I simply… lack parents. I have never had any. My only ‘parent’ is the Demon Realm. You see, we Demons are a strange people. Some of us are born from flesh, yes, but some of us have more Hellish origins. There are those, like me, who are born from the dark energies of the Demon Realm, sprung to life from only the chaos of that world. That primal energy is both my mother and my father, and all the generations before. I am, so to speak, a new being. Yet, even we born from darkness are still physical beings, much like the people of this world. We have cells, we have genes. We are capable of having children. Our origins are just slightly different.”
“Oh, I see. So, uh, sorry to bring it up,” said the Brench quietly.
“No, it’s no trouble. At least you learned something. And besides, I feel I owed you a full answer. Now, hopefully, there are few questions about my origin,” he said, patting her on the back.
“Well, I suppose… Perhaps you could tell me more about yourself?” Asked Gouta, sincerity in her voice.
“Oh, as much as I love to talk about myself, Gouta, I am far more interested in learning about you,” began Baalbatos, shaking his head, “However, I hear we are out of time for today. My desk work is calling me, and Lord Qrowen will need it done. Perhaps next time we can talk some more. If you don’t knock me out again, that is.”
“Oh,” she exclaimed, “Sorry about that. And yeah, next time sounds great. Just be careful with your head, okay? Go to the medbay if things don’t get better.”
“Of course, Gouta,” said Baalbatos with a nod and a small, reassuring smile, “Thank you for your help today. It was nice seeing you. Until next time.”
“Until next time.”
(I'll take PL for this, please! Heavy weights on!)