Prince of Warfare, Belial

[Belial]

DOSSIER: ARCHDEMON

 

”I have nothing witty to say but SWORD.”

BASIC DETAILS

NAME:
Belial.

ALIASES:
Casul, AllSmith, Prince of Warfare, the Indomitable, Baron of Slaughter, Metal King, Grave Lord Mayt'u, Two Faced One, Knight Progenitor, the Mad Archon, Sun Guard, Patron of Gold, the Wealthy One, the Conqueror, the Butcher of Hosts, Widow Maker, Orphan Creator, the Destroyer, Enemy of Man, Mars, He Who Sits Upon Skulls, the Eyegouger, the Bloodletter, Third of Ten, Black Chief of the Sons of Darkness, Master of Arms.

AGE:
He lost count around 7 billion years.

APPARENT GENDER:
Male.

SPHERE OF INFLUENCE:
The Great Undercroft.

PICTURE: DEMON:

Spoiler:

PICTURE: MORTAL:

Spoiler:

*********

PERSONAL DETAILS

DEMON DESCRIPTION:
Beliel is an Archdemon that takes a form too great to fathom as anything but awe inspiring before mortals that gaze before it. Within two in fact, as he cannot take any other but those that are necessarily making him deemed a combatant, often times within a vast size that towers over the normal human by 50 feet, or 100 feet, or even 500 feet if he wishes, but he can shrink his size to his will up to a minimum of 7 feet, otherwise his awe inspiring form cannot lower itself to anymore lower size. His appearance matters not so long as it is sporting to his fancy. That is if he actually corresponds to his current demeanor as there are two forms which take according to his persona, hence the famed moniker, the Two Faced One that he assumes. Appropriate given the mad demeanor he takes upon, the Chivalrous Dark Knight, and the other the Butcher of Hosts. He is no doubt a giant among men whatever forms he take, be it the black clad Dark Knight, complete with chainmail that envelopes his crotch area, whereas the rest are made of Hell-steel metal, with his visor concealed by such. A humbler if not knightly form worthy of his own chivalry. And the other is gaudy if not outright arrogant. His golden form concealed by Hell-steel alike but tempered with the obtuse essence of pride and the ever so vast indulgence of greed, golden in its form for what riches await him he cares not. His face though imitates the human form if ever so vaguely, ever so unmoving behind that mask of golden splendor, draped with a tabard of softened soul essence made solid enveloping his chest. His pauldrons vast and about every features of his golden armor speaks of great arrogance. Ever so less humble, with vast gauntlets to crush his enemies, and with feet large to quake all in its step of his coming that brings doom to the battlefields he sweeps with his sheer loathing. Armor is common in all locations. That, and metal is his entire form, his essence constitutes the metal within, as he is not hollow but really dense metal.

MORTAL DESCRIPTION:
Beliel due to an ancient word-oath placed upon him, and due to naught but his own obtuse blindness, cannot assume a frail and mortal form for it is far beneath him, and alike does it act to be nothing but that there is no truce when it comes to him, no compromise. An olden bestowal that he cannot shake a result, and neither does he have interest in doing so.

PERSONALITY:
The Knight
There are no more demons more chivalrous than he, who sees not a battle in the weak for they are none the worthy the glory. Ever so far to his compatriots, battling not where it is undeserved but only those that bear arms against him, braving the many dangers that he himself finds privy to a sporting chance to souls that bare naught but admiration in his wretched damned souls for their bravery. He is a warrior of valor and without equal, ever so fair and vigilant in his watch. His minions are naught, for they are his companions, his kin, brothers in arms to battle eternally to their fancy. Honor is his foreword, and he sees no worth in picking on the weak, for it is a glory unwon of skills or merits, but of their weakness. He expects chivalry of all that serve under him, and likewise expects the same of those whom he fights. Whomever violates such things brings forth a wrath unending from the Knight, for the violation of such ideals are done of their own conscientious volition. He is the nearest to that which is fair in the realms of the damned, easing those that are great, and coming to greet those that are warriors of valorous worth, yet their sins brought them asunder and away from the true path of salvation far above in the realm of all that is good and righteous. A remnant of a far throng past ages and relic whose only path that brought him below and herein was his own fealty pledged to the thrice enemy of mankind, the Overlord of all Archdemons. Loyalty is what he lives by, and his code of ethics brought forth his doom-driven existence hence.

The Butcher
Honor? Mercy? Stick up the asshole ethics? They are virtues for the WEAK! He is but the malignant and ever so EVIL persona. Honor is a coward's excuse, and the Butcher is no coward. The fault of the weak lay within their own inability to improve. He has no equals worth meting his respect to in his realm. Why bother? They will be dead, either by his hand or by their own infighting. WEAK, PUTRID, FILTHY. He loves to venture out and battle, regardless. He cares not where blood flows, as long as it DOES. His followers? Minions and lambs to the slaughter for his fancy and amusement. Boredom is the one enemy that ever so battles him as an equal throughout his tenure in Inferis. He finds himself most interloping of mortal affairs for it is VERY FUN seeing humans weep like coward chickens in the face of their children devoured by the Butcher. Madness is his mantra, and he prefers bloodthirst, for there is a certain special quality to making bounty of all that he clashes blades against. He gives not worth for it must be earned in his eyes. He conquers in excess, drowns vast pools in blood unending, finding solace in the heat of battle, the shrill of war, the carnage of chaos and doom upon all. His only virtues is in that the strong shall prevail, and the weak shall be eaten outright. Better cut short the inevitable and bring about their folly regardless, for the Butcher cares not to wait.

HISTORY:
Once there was chivalry, and the embodiment of it. He has served faithfully and without fail, for his decree bestowed thus was to never question, and to never falter from duty. A retainer to one above all that deigned to make him challenge his own loyalties. Does he opt for the farthest above or below? Choices had set him asunder and conflicting persona, whom does he serve? He will ultimately be a traitor to one or the other. He did not know why he had chosen when he did that which was immediate instead of cosmologically eternal, forever, always there. But he has. From whence he was far above, he was flung far below. His loyalty had pit him within what would be a cruel and sadistic choice, for his fate had been one of conflict from the very beginning. It hungered deep within, as damnation set and what was once pure white of his own steel clad armor, turned black. A fitting brand for a traitor. That hunger perverted whom he was, challenged him for every turn, and lo, he has come to be Belial.

Power was his domain soon, instead of the protection of others. Coming to fight not against others but at first with one's self. The contending for dominance, but both had not yielded to the stalemate. Forever pursuing a battle thus yonder within, splitting the barren fiery wastelands. What was one One, turned unto Two. And from there under Two became One. An agreement that neither one shall budge or make progress. But in doing so, they cast away the one thing that made equality impossible, for still it was an agreement made not out of good will but out of hate. His mortal form made lost, to have accepted an insipid form as a part of him, than all else. He has truly become damned. Without return. And further does the origination of how he has come to be end as he has played a pivotal role in a number of events in human history...

Attila the Hun drew his horse, desperate to rid himself of his brother. He was hungry for glory, but how will he battle the legions of Rome with naught but an army of nomads? Barbarians and hungry for war all, undisciplined lot lacking valuable training that make them. Furthermore his brother Bleda has no ambition, only  He was desperate, giving pleas in his mad wails, sacrificing his virginal brides and concubines, making whatever pacts he has to, for long he has heard whispers of ambition, pride and temptations that he could not help but want to give in to. Anything to give unto a quick shortcut to power. He was a man of charms and wizardry, as not all have come to know him by, but for his fearsome skill with the sword that came later. Of all the lesser demons that have come to look at him, a great one instead tore them asunder, ever so mildly intrigued by the dainty mortal, the only one whose great ambition came for willpower, the greatest he had ever seen, and perhaps the only one of unfathomable power, has come to bear a pledge of vassalage to Belial. Upon doing so, he inhabited his form. The first to not be torn asunder by the vast power of the Archdemon, for unlike his brethren, there were not a single one capable but Attila to have his form dominated entirely. From there, a Scourge was born. Bleda died in a one on one combat, and Attila took to being a conqueror without mercy. He made many grounds covered, but his will was not his own. The Attila the Huns knew earlier was a man of frail constitution, and often found himself plotting more than doing, but this new Attila? He rippled with a sense of bloodthirst they can fathom. He was inspiring at the same time he was dreadful if not spiteful. He demanded attention, and they gave it. The Romans were wiped from the field in light of his tactical skills, they feared his wrath more than Roman blades, and so went forth in battle with hysteria. Soon possessed with vast bloodthirst, turning more bloodier and ruthless for every battle they embarked. Mountains of Romans piled forth, and yet Attila, who now seemed more a shell than anything, admired their tenacity if anything to give a good battle.

But upon reaching Rome, only a man stood before the now shrill and pale Attila, the Pope himself. He demanded the demon leave the body of the conqueror lest the balances draw away. That he would chant words that were poison to the ear, and yet it did naught but drew the ire of the inhabitant whom came close to murdering the Pope. But only his amusement prevented what would be slaying the frail holy man in his footsteps. For everything tried to make him vacate, he smote it just as easily. It soon dawned upon the Pope that he dealt not with a greater demon, but an Archdemon. His first time too, in person, soon drew pale. But nonetheless he assailed with his forces. What wretchedness turned into sporting goodwill as the Knight took over Attila's form in a shift. He had bested every and all methods the Pope has done, stepping out to meet the man himself as Attila soon regained his own will, distraught at how he has conquered all but not of his own will, but at the giant inhabitant's. Standing before the Pope, Belial congratulated the man for his efforts, and told him that on his honor, he will give up his conquest. He had his fill of battles, and he should be lucky to come across the Knight and not the Butcher. Making a deal with the holy man, he would promise never to inhabit a mortal form again, and made assurances that such forms barely contained him, unlike his Archdemon brethren, Attila was the greatest and only catch he hath come across. The Pope reluctantly agreed, and the Archdemon departed from the realm of mortals. Blissfully happy to have come to trade blows whilst the Butcher was loathful that his fill of fun had come to an end.

Soon Attila's army fell... and for countless centuries, Belial did battle with mortals whom were weak, whipping them into frenzies, driving them forth as he took part personally, until he would leave of his own fancy, countless times. Facing Champion after another that he would steal to his realm as part of his elite guards, as they became worthy till he had a full legion at his behest in his bastion. Glad to have faced the spirit of the humans which would trade blows with Belial in spite of the insurmountable odds they faced where death is almost a certainty. It has come to continue as a cycle without ending, one the Butcher without end, and one the Chivalrous Knight that made such restraint. That, and he also had to deal with some stupid demon mutiny at the Undercroft after all those years he was gone, since some GENIUSES thought they can be the new ruler of the Great Undercroft in his absence. As he returned, he merely murdered the lot of them, and ensured that their fear of him rose higher than their loathing of him. Those said demons that rebelled? Turned into his own personal hats as he left them without spines, having extinguished the mutineers and brought order through such sheer chaos and destruction. Making mortar of their blood, and rebuilding his throne out of the skulls of those mutineers, gilding them with gold.


Mythos:

A man had wished for great power to end his troubles against the enemies whom had come to engulf him with endless woes. He prayed for infernal ones to grant him power. His power was granted by Belial, the great power to end his troubles, as in Belial stepped through a tear and smote the man where he stood, destroyed his estate, pillaged his wife, and raped his home. Also got a spiffing set of lovely intestines to adorn his bastion with. GREAT TIMES.

---

Once upon a time, a Queen wept that she wanted power. To be indestructible lest her Kingdom fall into ruins, giving an offer to Belial. Belial heard her pleas, moved by how sissy and pansy she was, he stepped through a tear and coated her in abyssal steel, turning her into an indestructible statue that to this day. He also sacked her palace and stole all her immediate effects, taking all the gold and smiting all the servants there.

---

Music as it has come to be known, or more specifically the lute, was invented by Belial, as not many people have known. During his tenure consorting with mortals, Belial heard a horrid screech from a woman trying to emulate the beautiful wails of whales. Snapping her leg bones, he demanded the foul wench to why she molests his ears with such horrid sounds. She replies that she is trying to make music, whilst sobbing her harlot mouth out. Belial tore her apart, and fashioned a lute out of pelvis, and spine. Fastening threads of her muscles to the skull as he played the lovely music, after the lyre Greeks had. After he had his fill of playing a genre of music he calls Metal, he left that lute in place for a morbid individual to gain inspiration of how to make... and THAT IS HOW THE LUTE SPREAD ALL OVER THE WORLD!

---

A King once wished for a vast amount of gold whilst Belial was walking by. Hearing his wish, Belial spawned a vast amount of gold mountain to drop upon the King's castle, flattening him and his servants like pancakes as he made his way to burn a Roman village and devour the souls of the children there. Having a good day afterwards. And that is why the saying, be careful what you wish for, has come to begin.

---

Bored out of his mind one day, Belial summoned the most traitorous demon he can muster, his advisor, whom was naive even for demon standards, explaining to the demon, "Fetch yourself a vorpal sword, and get me one of Asmodeus's Succubi Warriors, we're going to Rome (as those mortal flesh sacks call it)." He actually said the parentheses by leaning forward and placing a hand beside his mouth to direct his voice to the demon alone. He is kind of a douche that way, they were in the room alone.

Anyways, the Archdemon, Succubus and Advisor made their way to Rome, the two possessing the most expedient ritualists nearby. The advisor cast an illusion to conceal the three, as the advisor awaited orders. Before the three was a great battle between the Etruscans and the Romans on a bridge. About 20 minutes into the battle, Belial points to a pebble by his foot and says "Move this small stone to where I am pointing now." He points to an innocuous patch of ground. Dumbfounded but trusting, the advisor did as he asked. No sooner had he done that, had a wagon rolling down a hill at high speed straight towards the pebble. The mighty wheels of the wagon flung the pebble up into the empty stretch of air. It hangs there for a moment before an arrow hits it, throwing it awry as it slams into the nearest catapult, whilst it rotated, flung it towards another rock, as they smashed and turned into splintering amount of rocks.

As of that point, the advisor noticed that Belial wasn't even staring towards the ensuing chaos, only looking in the direction of the succubus and the advisor.

Seeing the vast amount of rocks going at high speeds towards the sortee, the advisor used his vorpal blade to protect himself from the sharp rocks. It bounced off the powerful weapon, as it sped towards the succubus. Both of those pointy rocks barely graze her, just deep enough to cut the restraints that hold her metal breastplates on her form. As her armor falls away exposing her breasts, the advisor realized why Belial was staring at her. He giggled and then orders the two to leave.

---

Once upon a time, in Atlantis, the Archdemon Belial was walking down a road, contemplating whatever it is Belial's vast powers would contemplate. Which is another way of saying, who knows? When the King of Atlantis appeared on the road in the opposite direction, as the Archdemon and King crossed paths, Belial, in an unfathomable display of generosity, gave the King, the slightest of nods. The nod was not returned. Was it the intention of the King to insult Belial? Or did he just fail to see the generous social gesture? The motives of the King remains unknown, what is known, is the consequence.

The next morning, Belial appeared at the King's palace, and demanded that the King of Atlantis to offer his neck, to repay for the insult. The King at first tried to console Belial, only to find that Belial was inconsolable. So began, the destruction, of Atlantis, and all millions of the inhabitants within, at the sword point of Belial. And so began the legend, of Atlantis's utter annihilation, and its sinking, to forever be gone within the abyss of the sea, tethering to Davy Jones' locker.

*********

SPECIALISED DEMON:

Spoiler:

The Silver Knights are the reflection of Belial's former chivalrous self as a Dark Knight, wearing mithral armor which gives off a silver sheen, as they carry those equipment of theirs and march with perfect order and perfect rank. A very strange group that function well within cohesion and without thoughts of disloyalty, as they owe their fealty to Belial. Known as the immortals not because of their longevity, but as a result of how a single loss from these Silver Knights are replaced back to their number of a thousand. They alone are the best among the Undercroft's fighters, clad in full mithral metal, weapons aside forged by Belial himself to give them shields that none can pierce, and swords that can pierce all. They are the instrument of his own rule, given honor and glory alike serving the Archdemon. All of them stand 10 feet tall, and are often arrayed in his Tomb of Hollows like statues, assuming the same statuesque stance, motionless till the smallest sign of hostility or trouble, interlopers that be whom enter their Lord's hall are met with swift action.

SKILLS:
- Of all Archdemons, he possesses the greatest amount of strength unparalleled to all. Capable of creating rifts in the ground, parting mountains and making valleys with his bare strength.
- He has the largest amount of energy reservoir of all Archdemons, that were one to see his aura, would explain it were like an ocean.
- There are no equal when it comes to martial prowess when it comes to Belial.
- His sight is so great, that he can behold for miles at a time and all around him on a 360 field of view vision.
- His reflexes are so lightning fast, that it would often baffle others that he can read an entire 5,000 page book within moments.

WEAKNESSES:
- His two forms can cause a lack of consistency within Belial, and often contradicts the design of his two persona for whatever goals he may have in store.
- Due to his vast reservoir, there are no mortals or ritualists in existence, or the following after, since Attila, that he could possess as his own.
- He cannot assume anything vaguely human as a form either, thus cannot conceal his demonic visage.
- Due to his great aura, his appearance in the mortal realm is not without notice, unlike his fellow Archdemons, it is immediately noted anywhere in the world by his presence alone.
- A normal person without supernatural foresight in his immediate presence WILL know there is something EXTREMELY wrong with Belial, thus causing fear and a creeping feeling to them.

COLOURS:
- Infernal Speech (Demon dialect) - (Eldritch language, mortals weep or are often disturbed by the unnatural vocals)
- Scottish English
- Latin
- Norwegian
- German

TRIVIA:

- Templars popularized paper money to devalue Belial's support, for he can make gold out of thin air sprout.
- He has two personas within one body, one is noble and just, and the other cruel and ruthless.
- He actually has a working 70 inch plasma screen TV in his throne room, which he hooked to specifically shuffle through mortal channels, and also working internet.
- He likes taking long enthusiastic walks in the mortal world, since its fun, and hilarious.

*********

USER DETAILS

ALIAS:
DOUG

OTHER CHARACTERS:
Agent Bob.

ROLEPLAY HISTORY:
No idea whatsoever. Probably some odd years?

FACECLAIM:

Code:

[b]DARK SOULS[/b] :: [b]GIANTDAD BUILD[/b]

Code:

[b]DARK SOULS[/b] :: [b]BLACK KNIGHT[/b]

CUSTOM RANK:
Emperor YOLO

[Lazarus Carter]

Archive date is the 2nd May.

[Lazarus Carter]

REVISE

Little pernickety note, Lucifer is logically speaking the oldest Demon alive at around 7 billion years old - which means that Belial has to be around this age or younger than him.

[Agent Bob]

Fixed that shit.

[Lazarus Carter]

APPROVANATED, NIKOTRON 3000

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