Baal'themar: Final Trial.

[Baalthemar]

Baal’themar paced in Ruuki’s office, he had handed her his plan for his final trial and a wooden create that held his vessel.

As Ruuki looked over his papers, Baal thought about the people in place to aid him in his final trial.

He had spoken with Nathandiel, the doctor had agreed to remove his eye despite his concerns about the operation being done outside, but the threat of Baal pulling his eye out himself had sealed the deal.

Baal grinned and rubbed his cheek, Nathandiel was a strange man, but it seemed like he knew what he was doing, and that was enough for Baal.

Baal had scouted the location for the ritual, Altar of Storms in the Blasted Lands, the energy there would work well for the soul binding, or so his more knowledgeable contacts had told him, he had crafted a fine vessel for his eye, and his soul, a skull made form dark iron and covered in runes to aid the binding.
The fact that it was forged after an elf skull made him smile, few could tell the difference but he was sure that this little detail wouldn't be missed by some members of the Grim.

Baal looked over at Ruuki, and watched her for a moment then returned to his pacing.

Baal thought about the conversation he had with Ulrezaj, and made sure the Troll knew what he had planned from this ritual, all Ulrezaj and his fellow magic users had to do was sort out the details of the spell.
Baal tilted his head, that might be quite the task he thought, but with Aderlee there to help keep him alive there was little more that he could do but trust them.

He shrugged, and returned to his pacing.

Although Baal knew there would be a great deal of pain for this spell to work, it did nothing to hold back his anxiety.
So long as the end result was what was planned it didn’t matter. What was a little suffering for a chance to be part of this family long after his death?

He grinned and thought about the last thing he needed to get ready. Deep fried elf ears, which he had promised Syreena, keeping her fed might save his ears. Although the little rogue would likely still offer her "help" even with a belly full of food.
Baal made a mental note to head to Outlands and cut some fresh ears before the trial.

The short distraction of thought had stopped his pacing. He stood facing a wall, turning on his heel he returned to his pacing, waiting for Ruuki to say something.

[Baalthemar]

It had been almost a week and now everything was in place, he had worked hard to make sure this trial would work, he had gotten the help of many skilled Grim, and made himself ready in case he died. he was scared, but he couldn't show fear, he couldn't show the others that he might be weaker than he let on. No, never again.

He would survive like he had time and time again, he would live through this Trial and join his new family. Ten more days and it would be time, only ten days and he would be forever changed. But he would be Grim, true and whole.
Baal smiled at that thought.

((Baal's final trial is on the 25th, at the Altar of Storms in the Blasted Lands, Come watch as Baal has his eye cut out and put into a thing. should start around 8pm server. fun for the entire family* (*Not really though). ))

[Baalthemar]

************************! Warning Adult themes! ******************************

“See” you on the other side. He had said to Nathandiel. He joked but he could die here tonight.

Baalthemar laid down on the cold bone that was being used as an operating table.
He flinched as he felt a cool hand fondle his manhood. What the hell is a catheter anyway? He thought.

Getting his teeth, A little pinch? Try a long burn and an uncomfortable fullness in a place that wasn’t made for such treatment. Slowly he breathed out, as Nathandiel dabbed at his arm. “Ready kiddo?” he asked.
No. he thought, “Lets do it.” Giving a final grin.

Nathandiel smiled down at him, saying something about “Vecuronium” but all Baalthemar could see was the long syringe pushing the liquid into the tube in his arm. He could feel this “Vecuronium” slip into his veins, it was cold, but that cold feeling faded as it flowed.

His body started to feel stiff, slow to respond. No turning back now, you better be ready for this. He thought to himself. Baal feels Nathandiel close his eye, and ask Aziris for a claw.

*Hahaha, this is it boy. This is where they watch you die, pulled apart by people you called friends.* a cruel voice taunted. His chest was tight, he couldn’t breathe. Nathandiel, whats going on, why can’t I breathe? His mind racing. *You trusted again, and now you will die for their entertainment.*

His right eye is pulled open and he can see Nathandiel. Nath please. Do something! He thought.

Almost if he could read his mind, the doctor turned to Aziris and set about giving Baalthemar some much needed air.
Nathandiel tilts back Baalthemar's head. "I know you can't breathe, but air is coming."
*See, you are in good hands, he knows what he is doing.* A calm soothing voice whispers.

Something is forced into his throat, Baal can feel it scratch and slither its way into his chest, but soon after fresh cool air comes into his lungs, and the burning he felt passes.

"No one can hear you scream now." If he could have he might have laughed at that, with a tube blocking his throat it would have been a challenge to scream even if he could move.

Baalthemar watched on as Nathandiel readied a needle for his eye. This is going to be unpleasant he thought as he watched the tip of the needle come closer and closer to his eye, until at last it slipped out of focus and he felt it enter his eye.

Sharp like he had taken some dust or sand to the eye, he fought to blink but his body was still.
Again the needle came, and again. His eye wept to rid itself of the intruder. “I'll try to be fast.” Nathandiel had said.
Thanks Doc, can't say I enjoy a slow eye stabbing. He thought.
*Joking helps. but you will still want to be ready for the next part* the soft voice whispered.

“This will hurt.” Nathandiel warned. The blade cut into Baalthemar’s eye. The pain was intense, his vision blurred and all he could see was flashing spots and darkness. Something inside him came undone, he felt himself sink into the floor, and he watched as his world slowly went dark, the sound of scraping and slicing echoed in his head, as Nathandiel went about his bloody work.

He felt something wet on his face, and a gentle voice said something to him, it sounded distant, calling to him. Half way home? Something about a Hill? Was he going mad? Thoughts floated into his mind.

Baalthemar felt something dry being pushed into his face, his eye was gone. His world was nothing but darkness now. Open my other eye so I can see. He thought trying to focus on anything else but the burning pain that washed over his face.

He could hear Nathandiel, "The excess length with wither and fall out later Baalthemar. We're almost done." Length of what? Was his eye ball hanging on his face? He couldn’t tell everything burned.

*No, he means the stitches, you are done. They didn’t let you die.* the soothing voice said.

He could hear Nathandiel addressing the Grim, not quite making out the words…

Khorvis’s harsh voice boomed over the chatter. ”Stand up you bloody sods.” Baalthemar was trapped in darkness. Are we under attack? I need to get up… I need to fight… He fought to move his useless legs.

He waited for the sounds of battle, but there was nothing…
He felt a warm hand gently touch his face, wiping away something wet from his face.

Low murmurs of chatter, followed by a battle cry, "PEACE THROUGH ANNIHILATION!"
*You gathered them here for this and now they are getting attacked because of you. Boy.* the cruel voice whispered.

No! I need to get up. I need to help them. Fight. Baalthemar raged against his body, trapped in his own flesh, unable to give aid to his friends.
Warmth hit him followed by a sting, then the darkness enveloped him, his mind disconnected from any sounds or feelings.

Malhavik starts his fel-work.

He wakes alone. Still naked, his eye missing.
“Where am I?” looking around he can see very little, where ever he is, it seems to be night. Looking at the ground he is standing on, grass, cold, and wet. Dew? Early morning before dawn maybe? He wondered.

Something hits him, burning into this abdomen. Falling to his knees, he grabs at his gut.
Looking down he can see a strange gem burn into his skin.

As soon as the gem vanished his skin started to burn and he was again plunged into pain, Baalthemar roared as his arms and legs seemed to slowly dissolve, looking at his arms, the skin was bubbling and melting with some unseen fire.
Each breath he took sent jets of heat into his lungs, all he could do was curl into a ball to protect his face.

From far away he could hear a strange noise, air rushing or water flowing quickly.
The heat of the fires seemed to die down, replaced by a cold feeling, but there was no pain, and that’s all that mattered to Baalthemar.

Slowly he stood, and looked over his body, no melted flesh or fused bone. Voices came back to him, he turned to see them, but there was nothing. Just the void.

"I'll see you when you wake up Baalthemar." He started to run toward the voices. “Nath wait! Where are the Grim? Are we under attack?” he ran naked into the darkness gaining no ground on the voices.

Yelling into the void Baalthemar feels the ground start to change, turning from firm grass into a wet quagmire, the voices slowly fading. “Wait, I’m coming.” Baalthemar wades though the cold sludge.
The thick muck is up to his neck before he hears another voice, "time to go." Nathandiel says as if from a great distance. Baalthemar’s head slips under the surface. deeper still into the void.

[Nathandiel]

((Poor Baal! That's horrifying!))