Of course Belgarath is a douchebag. He loves pissing off others, just for the sake of seeing them get mad. It’s a little game he likes to play - see how much of a rise he can get from someone else. Do you think he really wanted Gryffen’s herd? No. Oh no. He’d been there and done that and after Alasia, Bel had no desire to do anything but fuck ‘em and leave ‘em.
The big, dappled stallion watches all eyes turn to him - some fearful, some amused, some flashing in anger. Oh boy. This would be fun. And the first to react does not disappoint him. A black and white stallion answers his icy proclamation as King of the Meadow with a fiery rebuttal, white hot flames rushing up in pillars that an archangel would envy. Oh… very good sir. Challenge accepted. And to his other side, a glowing mare levitates up to his level, though neither attack nor verbal assault comes from her. With just a quick glance, he cannot tell whether or not she’s amused or pissed or just doesn’t want the boys to have all the fun.
Then the stallion calls out an insult of sorts, and Belgarath cannot help but laugh. “My mother was a harem whore, so no.” That’s all he’ll give away. Nevermind that he was taken away soon after he was weaned and trained with the other colts, only to be forced out when his skills rivaled his sire. Skills that he’s let slip by the wayside in favor his otherworldly powers. But to the black and white’s insistence that someone put Bel ‘in his place,’ well, he doesn’t agree. The flames shoot towards the ice, but none come towards him, and so Belgarath laughs. His ice was resistant to any mortal fire - even the hottest flames. He would need some sort of holy power to counteract Bel’s demonic forces. “Nice try, but you don’t seem up to the challenge,” he shoots back, flinging razor sharp ice shards down towards his opponent. The spray out over a ten foot radius, coming at irregular intervals.
And then a voice creeps into his head, and he practically hisses. Oh that... now that just isn’t fair. This should be a physical powers only fight! Mental games are a woman’s way. Nevertheless, he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw and not caring whether or not they think him crazy, shouts back. “What makes you think this is about dick size? I’m the motherfucking King of the Meadow.” What was it to others, anyway? He doesn’t know it, but one is already a King of his own land. The other sworn to women. And this voice, well… if he is such a harbinger of chaos, then he and Belgarath should be fast friends. He could probably show Bel a thing or two, come to think of it.
belgarath
