To Tom
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TennyoCeres84
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To Tom
What does Belial look like? Overall, what's his personality like?
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IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
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As Tom
"Considering how he happens to be the one who duped the first goblins into accepting his boon, Belial's always favored an Orc-like bearing. Being tall and stocky in most depictions, he has massive arms resulting from his handling of countless Damned as mere carcasses, and the belly to expect out of the average unrestrained meat lover. He tends to confer his own skin tone to his idolaters and mortal clients as a progressive mark of sorts, so he has my own charming shade of Jaundice Yellow. Or, well, he has Quint's, I should say. I didn't choose it; I would've gone for the body's natural condition if I'd had the choice.
Picture a mangy and largely hairless Orc standing near his gigantic oven made out of the Pit's own blackened stones, and give it nothing except a battered apron of boiled leather that goes down to the knees. His signature cleaver is a given, being as much a weapon as it's a tool of his trade and a utensil for him to use. Belial looks and sounds oafish on the most shallow of levels, being the least cultivated of the Princes. At the same time, his lack of social graces hides a shrewd mind that carefully selects those who earn the right to speak to him, to taste of the power he offers. He speaks curtly and would offend anyone who has even a shred of education, but he knows mortals better than the Inspector himself.
He knows which hunks of Infernal meat to offer you, which gifts to bestow to each mortal desirous of a bit of Hellish credit. A bit of conversation seems to be all he needs to suss people out, and playing the boorish idiot allows him to avoid arousing his summoners' suspicion. They think they've struck a deal with a low-rent Infernal aristocrat, but they've actually transacted with the most, well, streetwise of all of the Pit's dignitaries. He isn't just a dumb butcher who's eager to chop up your soul for his afternoon snack - I'd actually compare him to an old-fashioned mob boss from across the pond.
He's uncouth, unrefined, uncaring of it and unwilling to make concessions for the more hoity-toity of summoners - but he knows his meat. For better or worse, this is what mortals are to him: chunks of flesh to pare down into marks of fealty other demons might offer or exchange between one another, a tool to be put to use in Humanity's continued corruption.
That is, when he isn't simply transacting with some hapless idiot because stupidity makes him lick his chops... I remember the way he felt, back when he communed with Quint. The warthog himself didn't notice anything, as oblivious as he was, but I can sift through his memories' raw data and pick up things he missed...
When Belial is cooperative towards you, chances are you're being played for a fool. The more tolerant and gruffly sympathetic he is, the more you can be sure he only has one thing on the brain: your soul and who he intends to sell it to, preferably in individual pieces. When, of course, he isn't merely seeing you as meat being artfully pared down by his own words... That was his perception of Quint's continuous pleas, obviously. The more the Butcher elected to humor this poor fool, the more he'd end up with a compatible shell in which to travel the mortal plane.
As we all know, I elected to step up and put a wrench in his plans. Quint's body would've been wasted by that glorified thug; we could've foreseen something along the lines of an arcane human trafficking ring being piloted by a grotesque Guy Ritchie movie extra."
Picture a mangy and largely hairless Orc standing near his gigantic oven made out of the Pit's own blackened stones, and give it nothing except a battered apron of boiled leather that goes down to the knees. His signature cleaver is a given, being as much a weapon as it's a tool of his trade and a utensil for him to use. Belial looks and sounds oafish on the most shallow of levels, being the least cultivated of the Princes. At the same time, his lack of social graces hides a shrewd mind that carefully selects those who earn the right to speak to him, to taste of the power he offers. He speaks curtly and would offend anyone who has even a shred of education, but he knows mortals better than the Inspector himself.
He knows which hunks of Infernal meat to offer you, which gifts to bestow to each mortal desirous of a bit of Hellish credit. A bit of conversation seems to be all he needs to suss people out, and playing the boorish idiot allows him to avoid arousing his summoners' suspicion. They think they've struck a deal with a low-rent Infernal aristocrat, but they've actually transacted with the most, well, streetwise of all of the Pit's dignitaries. He isn't just a dumb butcher who's eager to chop up your soul for his afternoon snack - I'd actually compare him to an old-fashioned mob boss from across the pond.
He's uncouth, unrefined, uncaring of it and unwilling to make concessions for the more hoity-toity of summoners - but he knows his meat. For better or worse, this is what mortals are to him: chunks of flesh to pare down into marks of fealty other demons might offer or exchange between one another, a tool to be put to use in Humanity's continued corruption.
That is, when he isn't simply transacting with some hapless idiot because stupidity makes him lick his chops... I remember the way he felt, back when he communed with Quint. The warthog himself didn't notice anything, as oblivious as he was, but I can sift through his memories' raw data and pick up things he missed...
When Belial is cooperative towards you, chances are you're being played for a fool. The more tolerant and gruffly sympathetic he is, the more you can be sure he only has one thing on the brain: your soul and who he intends to sell it to, preferably in individual pieces. When, of course, he isn't merely seeing you as meat being artfully pared down by his own words... That was his perception of Quint's continuous pleas, obviously. The more the Butcher elected to humor this poor fool, the more he'd end up with a compatible shell in which to travel the mortal plane.
As we all know, I elected to step up and put a wrench in his plans. Quint's body would've been wasted by that glorified thug; we could've foreseen something along the lines of an arcane human trafficking ring being piloted by a grotesque Guy Ritchie movie extra."