Post by Baalbatos on Feb 20, 2016 8:51:06 GMT -5
Baalbatos rose early that morning. His eyes cracked open as he laid in his bed, so comfortable, not wanting to move. Damn, he thought, that had been the best sleep he had in weeks. The aching in his muscles was gone, and for once he felt at ease. A shame that he would soon have to rise and continue his work. Baalbatos was loathe to give himself over to the world of forms and reading again. His pillow was calling him, like a Sirens song. And how he loved that melody. If only he could bind himself to his bed and never leave it. His muscles would grow soft and his skin fishbelly pale away from the light of the world, but he would be oh so happy. The feather-soft world of his bed was a kinder one than the one waiting for him just beyond the threshold of his covers.
But the world outside needed him. Lord Qrowen’s empire would not build itself. A shame, thought Baalbatos. It would certainly make his life markedly easier.
“Come on,” he whispered to himself, “I can sleep when I am dead. Or whenever those who would oppose us are dead. Whichever comes first, I suppose.” With a groan, Baalbatos finally sat up in his bed and stretched. The tightness in his body felt so good as he stretched, the sign of a good night's sleep. He blinked his eyes, chasing what remained of the sleep in his mind away. It was the dawn of a new day. And he had plenty of work to do before breakfast.
It was early. Incredibly so. Even now, the soldiers still had some time before they were to rise and those on night watch were just beginning to wind down on their shift. Maybe, he thought, that meant he could get some peace and quiet. Though he half expected to be distributed at any moment. There was no rest for the wicked, after all. Quietly, he awaited the inevitable opening of his door.
But it never came. Baalbatos sighed, a weight off his shoulders. Apparently, even demons could catch a blessing every once in awhile. But now, it was time to get things done. He lurched from his bed and to his wardrobe, casting it open. What to wear today? He dressed finely, but there was little finery on this little planet. As he stripped from his bed dress, he considered it. Perhaps he could have something imported… No, he thought, that would be a poor choice. Money did not grow on trees. Baalbatos would simply have to make do. Finally, he decided on something: black shirt on black pants, made from a Crocolisk weave. And, of course, his signature cloak. He could not be without that.
Gingerly, he dressed, minding his leg. It still ached from his encounter with Lord Qrowen. How embarrassing that had been, to be bested like that. But the Kold Demon Lord was stronger than him, and by far. But not forever. Perhaps Baalbatos could catch him, even the playing field. Of course, Baalbatos wanted him to rule, but it was dreadfully boring to be so much weaker than his master. He needed to meet with Gouta again, continue his training…
But that would come later. For now, it was time for him to attend to one of his many duties: money management. They had bills to pay. Even fledgling empires had expenses.
Equipment, personnel, maintenance, food… So much damn food. They had mouths to feed and many. He really needed to set up farms… And with that came settlers. And with settlers, came a population. And with that came a nation, hopefully. He just needed to get people here…
“Note to self,” he said into a data pad as he picked it up and turned it on, “Start a settling program, set aside land for it, decide on incentives, teach soldiers not to brutualize civilians…”
He sighed. More work, and this would be an ordeal. Making a new nation sure was hard. And that was not all he had to do today. At least they were leaving this planet soon. For a little while, Baalbatos might be able to enjoy the sights of Earth. But even then he would have more work. It was going to be a recruitment drive, not a vacation.
And even now, there was work to be done to get to Earth. They needed a proper ship, something spaceworthy, a personal craft for the elite. They had a few old attack pods around the base, but Baalbatos distrusted them. They were old, rusted, only to be used as a last resort. No, he thought, they deserved a bettership, something respectable.
And Baalbatos had been looking around, trying to find the best model for them. But, as always, funds were the chief thing on his mind. Even now as he gazed at the glossy picture of a ship in a company catalogue, his stomach twisted. That was a lot of money for a ship.
He sighed. Nothing in this world was for free. At least anything worth having. Ships, weapons, people… Everything had a cost. It was almost enough to make him cry. Or at least make his wallet cry. Nervously, he tapped his fingers. He had wasted enough time. Reaching for his data pad, he made a decision. There was little time to waste. They had to get to Earth, they had to make an empire.
Impatiently, Baalbatos tapped away at his data pad, navigating the interface. He licked his lips as he looked at his personal accounts. He had money sitting in them, but he had been saving that for a rainy day. No, this was more important he told himself. Quickly, before he could stop himself he did it, he iniated the transfer of funds and the purchase of a ship.
Finally, he thought, it was done. The ship was ordered. Now they just had to wait for it to arrrive.
Baalbatos set his data pad aside as his stomach growled. He was hungry. Rising from his desk, he sighed. Perhaps he would take his breakfast with the soldiers. It would be good for appearances and morale. If only his men understood the value of bathing.
The things he did for this empire.
(I'll take zeni please!)
But the world outside needed him. Lord Qrowen’s empire would not build itself. A shame, thought Baalbatos. It would certainly make his life markedly easier.
“Come on,” he whispered to himself, “I can sleep when I am dead. Or whenever those who would oppose us are dead. Whichever comes first, I suppose.” With a groan, Baalbatos finally sat up in his bed and stretched. The tightness in his body felt so good as he stretched, the sign of a good night's sleep. He blinked his eyes, chasing what remained of the sleep in his mind away. It was the dawn of a new day. And he had plenty of work to do before breakfast.
It was early. Incredibly so. Even now, the soldiers still had some time before they were to rise and those on night watch were just beginning to wind down on their shift. Maybe, he thought, that meant he could get some peace and quiet. Though he half expected to be distributed at any moment. There was no rest for the wicked, after all. Quietly, he awaited the inevitable opening of his door.
But it never came. Baalbatos sighed, a weight off his shoulders. Apparently, even demons could catch a blessing every once in awhile. But now, it was time to get things done. He lurched from his bed and to his wardrobe, casting it open. What to wear today? He dressed finely, but there was little finery on this little planet. As he stripped from his bed dress, he considered it. Perhaps he could have something imported… No, he thought, that would be a poor choice. Money did not grow on trees. Baalbatos would simply have to make do. Finally, he decided on something: black shirt on black pants, made from a Crocolisk weave. And, of course, his signature cloak. He could not be without that.
Gingerly, he dressed, minding his leg. It still ached from his encounter with Lord Qrowen. How embarrassing that had been, to be bested like that. But the Kold Demon Lord was stronger than him, and by far. But not forever. Perhaps Baalbatos could catch him, even the playing field. Of course, Baalbatos wanted him to rule, but it was dreadfully boring to be so much weaker than his master. He needed to meet with Gouta again, continue his training…
But that would come later. For now, it was time for him to attend to one of his many duties: money management. They had bills to pay. Even fledgling empires had expenses.
Equipment, personnel, maintenance, food… So much damn food. They had mouths to feed and many. He really needed to set up farms… And with that came settlers. And with settlers, came a population. And with that came a nation, hopefully. He just needed to get people here…
“Note to self,” he said into a data pad as he picked it up and turned it on, “Start a settling program, set aside land for it, decide on incentives, teach soldiers not to brutualize civilians…”
He sighed. More work, and this would be an ordeal. Making a new nation sure was hard. And that was not all he had to do today. At least they were leaving this planet soon. For a little while, Baalbatos might be able to enjoy the sights of Earth. But even then he would have more work. It was going to be a recruitment drive, not a vacation.
And even now, there was work to be done to get to Earth. They needed a proper ship, something spaceworthy, a personal craft for the elite. They had a few old attack pods around the base, but Baalbatos distrusted them. They were old, rusted, only to be used as a last resort. No, he thought, they deserved a bettership, something respectable.
And Baalbatos had been looking around, trying to find the best model for them. But, as always, funds were the chief thing on his mind. Even now as he gazed at the glossy picture of a ship in a company catalogue, his stomach twisted. That was a lot of money for a ship.
He sighed. Nothing in this world was for free. At least anything worth having. Ships, weapons, people… Everything had a cost. It was almost enough to make him cry. Or at least make his wallet cry. Nervously, he tapped his fingers. He had wasted enough time. Reaching for his data pad, he made a decision. There was little time to waste. They had to get to Earth, they had to make an empire.
Impatiently, Baalbatos tapped away at his data pad, navigating the interface. He licked his lips as he looked at his personal accounts. He had money sitting in them, but he had been saving that for a rainy day. No, this was more important he told himself. Quickly, before he could stop himself he did it, he iniated the transfer of funds and the purchase of a ship.
Finally, he thought, it was done. The ship was ordered. Now they just had to wait for it to arrrive.
Baalbatos set his data pad aside as his stomach growled. He was hungry. Rising from his desk, he sighed. Perhaps he would take his breakfast with the soldiers. It would be good for appearances and morale. If only his men understood the value of bathing.
The things he did for this empire.
(I'll take zeni please!)