PlagueBearer
01-08-2004, 12:42
Set between Act II of Diablo II and Act IV's Epilouge, this story will reveal Belial's role in the Diablo storyline.
Did you ever think that it was odd that Baal changed into that strange spider thing? Ever thought it was a bit too clever for Destruction to pretend to be Tyrael? That the whole plan with the Worldstone seemed a bit too intelligent for the Lord of Destruction? Read on.
- - - - -
Tal Rasha’s body, possessed as it was by the Lord of Destruction, tore into the temple, the wooden double doors bursting into flames behind him as he barged into the half-light of the seemingly abandoned temple, the fire in his wake blazing with Destruction’s fury.
“BELIAL!,” his voice thundered forth from the rotten and mummified body. “BELIAL!”
The bandaged head swept from side to side with sinister determination, as creeping tentacles whipped forth into the darkness, probing for the unseen. Baal was never the cleverest of the brothers; he was not sure that Belial dwelt in this place. But it was dark, and if Belial had taken residence here, then it would truly be the abode of lies, and no precaution was too great.
The doors behind him drew shut suddenly, the fire on them extinguished as if by some incorporeal hand, and Baal’s mummified body was thrown into darkness. His many vine-like arms struck out into the darkness as his rasping but brutal voice cried out.
“BELIAL! BELIAL!”
A light shone out of the darkness, soft and yet wavering, as though it could extinguish itself on a whim; a small point of light, flickering and untrustworthy. And yet it calmed Baal, to see that light come forth from the darkness; his agitating whips grew sluggish, and the fires that yearned to leap forth from his clenched fists grew colder, smoldering in the ash of this temple. He still gazed about angrily, but without such fervor as before.
“Belial?”
The cunning light spread forth from the single flickering light, and a wicked cloak of fire spread over a corner of the shadows, revealing the silhouette of a man. The fire crawled around the ghostly, invisible form, clinging to what would have been shoulders. The trickster’s flame drew itself up from the cloak and formed a flaming head of hair and two liar’s eyes. It was not the form that told the Lord of Lies, but rather the absence of form that belied him: there was no man but merely shadow, cloaked in flame.
The shadow laughed an echoing, mocking chuckle.
“You’ve seen better days, Baal.”
“They all died, yet you lived! You betrayed my brothers and your kin as well, and for that I will destroy you!”
“Straight to the point, Baal,” the shadow paused, the flaming eyes wavering mockingly; if the shadow had visible lips, Baal would have seen a mocking smirk on Belial’s lips. “You never were the subtlest among us.”
“No,” Baal hissed through Tal Rasha‘s bandaged lips, “Betrayal has always been your dominion!”
Tentacles sprung forth angrily to blindly strike at Belial‘s shadowed form. Baal was not sure what happened in the darkness, but it seemed that no matter which way his vines whipped forth, they could not touch the dancing, mocking flames that clothed the Lord of Lies.
“Now, now, Baal,” Belial’s echoing voice said chidingly, as the defeated appendages withdrew to writhing, frustrated, behind their master, “Surely you didn’t come here to destroy me! I feel confident that you came here to discuss the future of our little invasion of Sanctuary.”
“Discuss? No. You discuss, I destroy. You talk, I destroy. You lie, and I destroy. And when I destroy you, you won’t lie ever again.”
The shadow’s flaming eyes widened in mock disbelief. “You mean that you haven’t considered your brothers’ work? Will they have died in vain to fill your bloodlust?”
The shadow’s flickering eyes narrowed. “You don’t even have your Soulstone, do you?”
Tal Rasha’s animated body shifted uncomfortably, made unsure by Belial’s interrogation.
“What do you mean?,” the rasping voice said, “Diablo is dead, Mephisto is dead, what now? You betrayed them!”
The shadowed head shook. “We Lesser Evils made a deal with Terror. After Diablo killed Azmodan, we all agreed to help conquer Sanctuary. Admittedly, I’ve been a bit less than faithful to that pact.”
“Betrayer!”
“Not so fast, Baal. Yes, your brothers died. But they need not have died in vain.”
Tal Rasha’s face seemed to consider.
“What must be done?”
- - - - -
Part II: Conclusion
They stood there in the gloom of the abandoned temple. Baal, the Lord of Destruction, wore the mummified body of the late mage, Tal Rasha. He had come to destroy the Lord of Lies, Belial, who appeared to him now as a shadow clothed in an immaterial and untrustworthy flame, but Belial’s suggestion, that the mortal world could still be conquered, gave the Lord of Destruction pause.
“There is no simple way to accomplish Mephisto’s lofty dream: to conquer Sanctuary. But it can be done. The first step is to recover the last Soulstone. Yours.”
Baal writhed in the abyss of the temple, recalling the painful years of struggle as the Soulstone burnt in his chest, as he fought with the spirit of Tal Rasha.
“That shard of the Worldstone that the mages used to imprison me? I never want to lay eyes on the rock again!”
Belial’s shadowed lips curved upwards imperceptibly at the simplicity of the Prime Evil.
“Your perception is flawed, Baal. The stone did not merely hold you in Tal Rasha’s grasp. The stone also siphoned your power. Otherwise, you could have easily destroyed Tal Rasha and escaped. You see, the Soulstone grants your power to whomever grasps it; once to Tal Rasha, to imprison you, and even now it plagues a mortal with it’s power. It holds within it the power to unite the armies of Hell and, properly used, corrupt the very essence of this plane. Hell on Sanctuary, Baal.”
Belial paused, and his flame faltered a bit.
“There is… one slight flaw, however. You must wield it cunningly, Baal. You must conquer the spirit of Tal Rasha within you, and unleash focused Destruction. Our goal is not to destroy Sanctuary, but to conquer it.”
Baal considered this. The possibility was staggering. The concept that he could tame Sanctuary alone… that the imprisoning power of the Soulstone could be a boone, rather than a bane… that Tal Rasha’s spirit could be crushed within him… it sounded good.
It sounded… too good. It smacked of Lies.
“I cannot trust you,” Baal cried out, making his decision. “You betrayed my brothers, and you will betray me just as quickly!”
Belial’s flaming eyes looked pained as he looked out onto the mummified body of Tal Rasha that now stood defiant in the darkness, standing against him as he had initially. Belial had hoped for a moment that Baal could be reasoned with. That hope was dying quickly.
“Baal,” Belial said, almost pleading, “I truly do wish to honor my pact with your brother! With you upon Sanctuary’s throne, we could both live as masters of this world. Between the Burning Hells and this world, there is enough for the two of us! Even Heaven itself would not be outside our grasp. I know where your Soulstone is, Baal! I can lead you there. I can make you king of this world!”
“No,” Baal said, his vines coming again to life. “I will not play your games. I will destroy you!”
Baal’s tendril’s came forth, striking out towards Belial. He moved forward but the shadowed form seemed always out of reach. Baal had been slowed by Belial’s lies once, but he would not bow to him now, or ever. His choice was made, and that was clear. He reached and reached, stepping closer and closer to the wispy form of the Lord of Lies, his tentacles whipping out angrily, but he could not reach the flaming cloak that clothed the Lesser Evil.
Belial’s flaming eyes turned down, saddened. He has truly hoped to turn Baal’s heart, to use the Prime Evil as his agent. He had hoped for an allegiance with this one, the most foolish but most powerful of the Brothers. It could have been perfect.
But that would never be. To be the man behind the curtain was his wish, but power was his to seize one way or another.
As Belial’s flame suddenly extinguished, one tentacle connected with something in the shadows. And another tentacle was seized by living flesh, shadow embodied. Then they swarmed over him; he could not see them in the darkness, but he knew them to be Belial’s minions. He struggled to throw them, to destroy them, but his power would not come to him… he fell into his attackers, hitting one after the other, throwing a few. But it was no use, as his enemies seemed limitless.
A voice, still reeking of tragedy, called out to him, “I am sorry to hear your decision, Baal. You came into the abode of Lies seeking Destruction. Now, in the dark and without your Soulstone, you have been imprisoned once again. And the Unseen will be your only companions as you struggle in the darkness for eternity.”
Baal tried to respond but could not, buried under a multitude of invisible foes.
A form, clothed only in a simple canvas robe, stepped out of the abandoned temple and began to walk to the hiding place of Destruction’s Soulstone. He would wrest it from the mortal hands in the best way he knew.
He would lie.
Did you ever think that it was odd that Baal changed into that strange spider thing? Ever thought it was a bit too clever for Destruction to pretend to be Tyrael? That the whole plan with the Worldstone seemed a bit too intelligent for the Lord of Destruction? Read on.
- - - - -
Tal Rasha’s body, possessed as it was by the Lord of Destruction, tore into the temple, the wooden double doors bursting into flames behind him as he barged into the half-light of the seemingly abandoned temple, the fire in his wake blazing with Destruction’s fury.
“BELIAL!,” his voice thundered forth from the rotten and mummified body. “BELIAL!”
The bandaged head swept from side to side with sinister determination, as creeping tentacles whipped forth into the darkness, probing for the unseen. Baal was never the cleverest of the brothers; he was not sure that Belial dwelt in this place. But it was dark, and if Belial had taken residence here, then it would truly be the abode of lies, and no precaution was too great.
The doors behind him drew shut suddenly, the fire on them extinguished as if by some incorporeal hand, and Baal’s mummified body was thrown into darkness. His many vine-like arms struck out into the darkness as his rasping but brutal voice cried out.
“BELIAL! BELIAL!”
A light shone out of the darkness, soft and yet wavering, as though it could extinguish itself on a whim; a small point of light, flickering and untrustworthy. And yet it calmed Baal, to see that light come forth from the darkness; his agitating whips grew sluggish, and the fires that yearned to leap forth from his clenched fists grew colder, smoldering in the ash of this temple. He still gazed about angrily, but without such fervor as before.
“Belial?”
The cunning light spread forth from the single flickering light, and a wicked cloak of fire spread over a corner of the shadows, revealing the silhouette of a man. The fire crawled around the ghostly, invisible form, clinging to what would have been shoulders. The trickster’s flame drew itself up from the cloak and formed a flaming head of hair and two liar’s eyes. It was not the form that told the Lord of Lies, but rather the absence of form that belied him: there was no man but merely shadow, cloaked in flame.
The shadow laughed an echoing, mocking chuckle.
“You’ve seen better days, Baal.”
“They all died, yet you lived! You betrayed my brothers and your kin as well, and for that I will destroy you!”
“Straight to the point, Baal,” the shadow paused, the flaming eyes wavering mockingly; if the shadow had visible lips, Baal would have seen a mocking smirk on Belial’s lips. “You never were the subtlest among us.”
“No,” Baal hissed through Tal Rasha‘s bandaged lips, “Betrayal has always been your dominion!”
Tentacles sprung forth angrily to blindly strike at Belial‘s shadowed form. Baal was not sure what happened in the darkness, but it seemed that no matter which way his vines whipped forth, they could not touch the dancing, mocking flames that clothed the Lord of Lies.
“Now, now, Baal,” Belial’s echoing voice said chidingly, as the defeated appendages withdrew to writhing, frustrated, behind their master, “Surely you didn’t come here to destroy me! I feel confident that you came here to discuss the future of our little invasion of Sanctuary.”
“Discuss? No. You discuss, I destroy. You talk, I destroy. You lie, and I destroy. And when I destroy you, you won’t lie ever again.”
The shadow’s flaming eyes widened in mock disbelief. “You mean that you haven’t considered your brothers’ work? Will they have died in vain to fill your bloodlust?”
The shadow’s flickering eyes narrowed. “You don’t even have your Soulstone, do you?”
Tal Rasha’s animated body shifted uncomfortably, made unsure by Belial’s interrogation.
“What do you mean?,” the rasping voice said, “Diablo is dead, Mephisto is dead, what now? You betrayed them!”
The shadowed head shook. “We Lesser Evils made a deal with Terror. After Diablo killed Azmodan, we all agreed to help conquer Sanctuary. Admittedly, I’ve been a bit less than faithful to that pact.”
“Betrayer!”
“Not so fast, Baal. Yes, your brothers died. But they need not have died in vain.”
Tal Rasha’s face seemed to consider.
“What must be done?”
- - - - -
Part II: Conclusion
They stood there in the gloom of the abandoned temple. Baal, the Lord of Destruction, wore the mummified body of the late mage, Tal Rasha. He had come to destroy the Lord of Lies, Belial, who appeared to him now as a shadow clothed in an immaterial and untrustworthy flame, but Belial’s suggestion, that the mortal world could still be conquered, gave the Lord of Destruction pause.
“There is no simple way to accomplish Mephisto’s lofty dream: to conquer Sanctuary. But it can be done. The first step is to recover the last Soulstone. Yours.”
Baal writhed in the abyss of the temple, recalling the painful years of struggle as the Soulstone burnt in his chest, as he fought with the spirit of Tal Rasha.
“That shard of the Worldstone that the mages used to imprison me? I never want to lay eyes on the rock again!”
Belial’s shadowed lips curved upwards imperceptibly at the simplicity of the Prime Evil.
“Your perception is flawed, Baal. The stone did not merely hold you in Tal Rasha’s grasp. The stone also siphoned your power. Otherwise, you could have easily destroyed Tal Rasha and escaped. You see, the Soulstone grants your power to whomever grasps it; once to Tal Rasha, to imprison you, and even now it plagues a mortal with it’s power. It holds within it the power to unite the armies of Hell and, properly used, corrupt the very essence of this plane. Hell on Sanctuary, Baal.”
Belial paused, and his flame faltered a bit.
“There is… one slight flaw, however. You must wield it cunningly, Baal. You must conquer the spirit of Tal Rasha within you, and unleash focused Destruction. Our goal is not to destroy Sanctuary, but to conquer it.”
Baal considered this. The possibility was staggering. The concept that he could tame Sanctuary alone… that the imprisoning power of the Soulstone could be a boone, rather than a bane… that Tal Rasha’s spirit could be crushed within him… it sounded good.
It sounded… too good. It smacked of Lies.
“I cannot trust you,” Baal cried out, making his decision. “You betrayed my brothers, and you will betray me just as quickly!”
Belial’s flaming eyes looked pained as he looked out onto the mummified body of Tal Rasha that now stood defiant in the darkness, standing against him as he had initially. Belial had hoped for a moment that Baal could be reasoned with. That hope was dying quickly.
“Baal,” Belial said, almost pleading, “I truly do wish to honor my pact with your brother! With you upon Sanctuary’s throne, we could both live as masters of this world. Between the Burning Hells and this world, there is enough for the two of us! Even Heaven itself would not be outside our grasp. I know where your Soulstone is, Baal! I can lead you there. I can make you king of this world!”
“No,” Baal said, his vines coming again to life. “I will not play your games. I will destroy you!”
Baal’s tendril’s came forth, striking out towards Belial. He moved forward but the shadowed form seemed always out of reach. Baal had been slowed by Belial’s lies once, but he would not bow to him now, or ever. His choice was made, and that was clear. He reached and reached, stepping closer and closer to the wispy form of the Lord of Lies, his tentacles whipping out angrily, but he could not reach the flaming cloak that clothed the Lesser Evil.
Belial’s flaming eyes turned down, saddened. He has truly hoped to turn Baal’s heart, to use the Prime Evil as his agent. He had hoped for an allegiance with this one, the most foolish but most powerful of the Brothers. It could have been perfect.
But that would never be. To be the man behind the curtain was his wish, but power was his to seize one way or another.
As Belial’s flame suddenly extinguished, one tentacle connected with something in the shadows. And another tentacle was seized by living flesh, shadow embodied. Then they swarmed over him; he could not see them in the darkness, but he knew them to be Belial’s minions. He struggled to throw them, to destroy them, but his power would not come to him… he fell into his attackers, hitting one after the other, throwing a few. But it was no use, as his enemies seemed limitless.
A voice, still reeking of tragedy, called out to him, “I am sorry to hear your decision, Baal. You came into the abode of Lies seeking Destruction. Now, in the dark and without your Soulstone, you have been imprisoned once again. And the Unseen will be your only companions as you struggle in the darkness for eternity.”
Baal tried to respond but could not, buried under a multitude of invisible foes.
A form, clothed only in a simple canvas robe, stepped out of the abandoned temple and began to walk to the hiding place of Destruction’s Soulstone. He would wrest it from the mortal hands in the best way he knew.
He would lie.