Shemeska
Adventurer
Pants said:Sounds like a 'loth wrote it.![]()
*chuckle* Hehehe, my version would have been something along the lines of the following, though I have a thing for Rip's version he wrote a while back as well.
He watched the Fall with a mixture of detached fascination. The Archons had suffered greatly, the Ancient Baatorians even more so, and for once their actions were not even prompted by the machinations of the Baern but by pride and zeal. He did not put it out of possibility that one of his brother/sisters had played a hand in goading them though. He hadn’t caused it, but he was reaping the benefits of it nonetheless, and conquest by triumph or default, it mattered little in the end.
Weakened by circumstance, he played his hand and gave Baator a new king, a new throne, its very own prisoner in a mask of iron to whittle away eternity in a cage of self wrought importance. Baator had subjects, servants, children, slaves, cogs, willing tools, plowshares it would seek to hammer into swords if given the chance, all of them raging against the perversion of their own nature against themselves.
In the end it was delicious. The plane itself rebelled under his feet in rage. If he deigned to step upon its soil, its soul, it trembled like the citizens of a great city before their mad emperor, hated and feared, respected and loathed all at once. The infection in its soil, in its soul, it ran deep. So rooted in was it that not even the Styx could erase the memory entirely.