06-25-2009, 05:01 AM
2)
âNo wonder Balthus is both crazy and dead. Well, mostly dead.â the words echoed in the chamber. Robin, nay, Balthus grinned at the comments his pursuers thought were to themselves.
The chamber was dark and sinister. Just as the crystalline passages were lit from within, the glazed walls of Balthusâs laboratory fed off of light, draining all save for that of the large crystalâs now set in the brass column in the center. Every article within had a ruddy glow.
Moving from table to table, Balthus grabbed various instruments and slipped them into his robes. A silver dish with arcane symbols, a small brass brazier with reliefs depicting a large, bloated demon... All were sequestered within various folds and pockets in the robe.
One table remained untouched. Balthus smiled every time it was passed and the chessboard that lay on top. âPawns,â Balthus muttered as he slipped past to a nearby bookshelf. He quickly scanned it until he found the tome he was looking for.
Reaching up to grab the book, he grimaced viewing the lithe hands under his control. Soon I will be rid of these weak, female prisons and back in my own form. Snatching the book, he tosses it onto the chessboard and scatters the pieces onto the floor. Then, I will truly be immortal.
When he was alive, he spent years toiling at his experiments and for all those years he failed. Delving into practices immoral and profane, his quest for true immortality grew closer. But with each failed attempt, a cruel monstrosity was borne. No one in his country knew of his experiments, not even his wife.
Nor did anyone realize his plea to Baron Twadre to form a guardian order was a subtle ploy to eliminate his undead creations. Within the Necrordinators, he was able to hide any traces of his involvement with the occult and set into motion his greatest work.
Tossing open the cover, Balthus flipped through the pages. The sheepskin parchment, toughened over the years, began to crack as he searched for what he desired.
âAlright, letâs go.â Marcusâs voice echoed again in the chamber. Balthus smiled as he tore the pages from the binding.
Slipping the crystal from the column, Balthus had everything he needed and proceeded to leave the chamber. Looking back, he glanced at the scattered chess pieces on the floor and thought of Tiberius.
âPawns are always sacrificed.â
âNo wonder Balthus is both crazy and dead. Well, mostly dead.â the words echoed in the chamber. Robin, nay, Balthus grinned at the comments his pursuers thought were to themselves.
The chamber was dark and sinister. Just as the crystalline passages were lit from within, the glazed walls of Balthusâs laboratory fed off of light, draining all save for that of the large crystalâs now set in the brass column in the center. Every article within had a ruddy glow.
Moving from table to table, Balthus grabbed various instruments and slipped them into his robes. A silver dish with arcane symbols, a small brass brazier with reliefs depicting a large, bloated demon... All were sequestered within various folds and pockets in the robe.
One table remained untouched. Balthus smiled every time it was passed and the chessboard that lay on top. âPawns,â Balthus muttered as he slipped past to a nearby bookshelf. He quickly scanned it until he found the tome he was looking for.
Reaching up to grab the book, he grimaced viewing the lithe hands under his control. Soon I will be rid of these weak, female prisons and back in my own form. Snatching the book, he tosses it onto the chessboard and scatters the pieces onto the floor. Then, I will truly be immortal.
When he was alive, he spent years toiling at his experiments and for all those years he failed. Delving into practices immoral and profane, his quest for true immortality grew closer. But with each failed attempt, a cruel monstrosity was borne. No one in his country knew of his experiments, not even his wife.
Nor did anyone realize his plea to Baron Twadre to form a guardian order was a subtle ploy to eliminate his undead creations. Within the Necrordinators, he was able to hide any traces of his involvement with the occult and set into motion his greatest work.
Tossing open the cover, Balthus flipped through the pages. The sheepskin parchment, toughened over the years, began to crack as he searched for what he desired.
âAlright, letâs go.â Marcusâs voice echoed again in the chamber. Balthus smiled as he tore the pages from the binding.
Slipping the crystal from the column, Balthus had everything he needed and proceeded to leave the chamber. Looking back, he glanced at the scattered chess pieces on the floor and thought of Tiberius.
âPawns are always sacrificed.â