Baal Character Development: #95- Baal's Broach

It’s dead of night, clouds painting gray streaks across the sky and covering the stars. A shadowy figure sits outside his home, on a bench in his front yard. Then, a small broach slowly lights up on the figure’s chest, casting a light on the figure’s features. Illuminated by the light is his straight black hair and olive eyes, and he gazes towards his broach. Carefully removing the broach, he gazes at its details with a sharp eye. It's a broach in the shape of an eye, red with black sclera. He watches it, bathing in his memories as he recalls the obtention of this broach.

It was before his current body. While he was still playing the role of a king. He’d just begun tapping into his potential with his powers, using his enhanced intelligence to push his magic beyond its natural abilities. Baal, then known as Astaroth 1, studied and practiced the crafting of his first artifact. At the time, all he could do was make it glow. But he was satisfied with that for the time being. It was the only artifact he would ever get to finish before he was sealed into the mirror realm. When he took over a new body centuries later, he spent quite a few days searching the castle for it, knowing that humans didn’t have the power to destroy it. He found it after three days in the royal quarters, as they’d been using it as precious jewelry without knowing of its nature or its true origins. This was far from all he wanted. There was still more to do, revenge to take. But it brought him a small amount of happiness to reunite with the precious broach, allowing it to light his way to his revenge.

His mind returns to the present moment, still gazing at the broach. Even today, centuries after its creation, the broach serves as a symbol of resilience, and of a return. Though also serves as a reminder of days long since passed, of days that will never come back. He sighs heavily. Seems that yet again, he’s being taken by sentiment. Though, there isn’t entirely anything wrong with a bit of sentiment now and again, is there? So long as he remains in the present. He reattaches the broach to his shirt and gets up. Perhaps he should take a walk to clear his head. He wanders the darkened street, the only source of light being his broach. The town is quiet, disturbed only by the sound of a small animal scurrying along. This small, out-of-the-way town is nothing like the place he once ruled. His kingdom was bright, and bustling. The city streets were never empty, filled during the day with market stalls and local businesses and crowds just trying to get where they needed to go. At night it got quieter, but there was always a drunk or some poor sod doing a late-night shift returning home in the early hours of the morning before the hustle and bustle returned. But here… it was empty at night. The only tavern was also an inn, and many of the drunks would stay at the inn for the night to avoid a scolding from their wives. And with little late-night jobs, the town’s streets at night became silent, empty spaces, only disturbed by an animal or the wind blowing something over. His shoes quietly clack against the brick road, walking down the main street and collecting himself. After wandering the town for what feels like an hour, he returns to his home. While he wasn’t exactly physically tired, all the reminiscing of past events had exhausted his mind. He takes his shoes off and slips into his bedrobe before sliding under the blankets of his bed. He curls himself into a ball, and as he falls into slumber to alleviate his mind, the broach glows softly at his bedside, waiting to light his path forward when he awakens, wherever he may go.