Post by Violin on Sept 5, 2020 17:24:42 GMT -6
Berith's PL: 5,000 (Suppressed to 5)
Berith hummed quietly, bringing the rim of a steaming teacup to his lips and sipping the smallest of samples from it. Leaning back in the cozy blue armchair so humbly provided to him, he smirked a bit as his opponent in this battle of wits fumbled. This battlefield may not be of the same prestige as his courts in the Demon Realm, but the average opponents here tended to match wits with most of Demonkind's smartest. Where was he exactly? A public enrichment center in West City. This section was set aside for the quieter mind games of mahjong, chess, and other such distractions. He had attained a bit of a reputation for being undefeated in chess - even the local grandmaster failed to make any sort of impact in his play. Some might find the lack of a challenge boring, but Berith was doing more than repeating the same tactic over and over to win. No, he was also... observing.
Soaking in information about humankind and how they ticked. What thought process was the most common, what the upper limit of an average citizen is, their reaction to his tactics of verbally unnerving them to play worse. All such things were topics of great interest to him, and insofar this journey was proving to be rather fruitful. Violin, his lord, was gone for now - off running errands related to the administration of Namekian refugee camps on Earth. The people returned but the planet still in ashes... my my, what a tragedy. His one attempt to gain a claim to leadership over his people, gone at the poor timing of an insect and a squid. It didn't make his dream impossible, especially with the apparent absence of their former leader Oboe, but it wasn't looking very promising. No doubt he'd have to devise some tactics of his own to ensure things fell into place...
The human across from him had made their move. A pitiful one, at that. With the distinct clack of a piece moving into place, Berith spoke: "Your King is in check with no hope of escape. Concede." They gave up without fuss, obviously not expecting to have beaten him in the first place. Hm. Yet now it seemed he'd run out of fresh opponents. Was he to wait at this table and enjoy his tea until another came along, or would fate pull him a direction of another activity here?
Berith hummed quietly, bringing the rim of a steaming teacup to his lips and sipping the smallest of samples from it. Leaning back in the cozy blue armchair so humbly provided to him, he smirked a bit as his opponent in this battle of wits fumbled. This battlefield may not be of the same prestige as his courts in the Demon Realm, but the average opponents here tended to match wits with most of Demonkind's smartest. Where was he exactly? A public enrichment center in West City. This section was set aside for the quieter mind games of mahjong, chess, and other such distractions. He had attained a bit of a reputation for being undefeated in chess - even the local grandmaster failed to make any sort of impact in his play. Some might find the lack of a challenge boring, but Berith was doing more than repeating the same tactic over and over to win. No, he was also... observing.
Soaking in information about humankind and how they ticked. What thought process was the most common, what the upper limit of an average citizen is, their reaction to his tactics of verbally unnerving them to play worse. All such things were topics of great interest to him, and insofar this journey was proving to be rather fruitful. Violin, his lord, was gone for now - off running errands related to the administration of Namekian refugee camps on Earth. The people returned but the planet still in ashes... my my, what a tragedy. His one attempt to gain a claim to leadership over his people, gone at the poor timing of an insect and a squid. It didn't make his dream impossible, especially with the apparent absence of their former leader Oboe, but it wasn't looking very promising. No doubt he'd have to devise some tactics of his own to ensure things fell into place...
The human across from him had made their move. A pitiful one, at that. With the distinct clack of a piece moving into place, Berith spoke: "Your King is in check with no hope of escape. Concede." They gave up without fuss, obviously not expecting to have beaten him in the first place. Hm. Yet now it seemed he'd run out of fresh opponents. Was he to wait at this table and enjoy his tea until another came along, or would fate pull him a direction of another activity here?
