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Maynard B. Phipps
AKA Baalberith. The chief secretary of Hell, he's in charge of keeping records of possessions, contracts, etc. He can be present everywhere and anywhere a demon and mortal make an accord, so he is a very busy man. He could do with some loosening up.
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The Infinite Void
a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by SaintQ
Description
Phipps is a man, standing 6'2, dressed in a finely tailored Gucci suit with a black tie and gaudy white shoes. He's a built man, looking as if he takes great pride in his appearance, but really, that's just the way he chose to look. He hasn't done a single bench press in 8000 years! His eyes are an unmistakably demonic red, but obscured somewhat by Oliver Peoples horn-rimmed glasses. Phipps just doesn't give a shit if people see him or not, so he makes no effort to hide the twisted horns that sprout from his hair, nor the spade-tipped tail that flicks casually alongside his legs. He is quite physically attractive by human standards, and has used this to his advantage to coerce people into writing even more terms and clauses into the contracts they strike.
Personality
Being a demon, Phipps is clever and devilishly charming. He can swoon a lady just as easily as he could lop her head off with an axe (not that he'd do that and risk blood spatters on his suit!). He is a hard-drinker and recreational drug user, with a 'what do I care, I'm immortal!' attitude.
But he is a man who is VERY serious about his line of work. When he puts on the business pants, he is cold and unfeeling, sacrificing whatever empathy he may have to ensure that the Devil gets his due. It is impossible to bargain with him, because he is the original stubborn mule.
He isn't as ravenous as his kin, and rarely eats at all, even to keep up appearances.
Equipment
Phipps carries a sleek black-leather briefcase that seems to have no limit to the amount of papers it can hold, as well as inkwells and quills to notorize any agreements made. His briefcase contains records of EVERY possession, contract, and temptation ever made since Lucifer's Fall, from the expulsion of Adam and Eve to the kid who stole a candy bar just 5 minutes ago. His job is very important.
History
Phipps has always been and always will be. In the courts of Hell, he is the highest appointed pontiff, but he is only summoned for extreme altercations, and usually a double takes his place. He really hates sitting and doing nothing, after all. He has the ability to become omnipresent, as it is part of his duty to act as a witness to any agreement between demon and mortal. He's also there if a mortal attempts to wheedle out of a contract or feels they are wrongfully in Hell.
“Did you READ the fine print?”
Baalberith has had it with your shit, now get on the boat!
Even so, his job can be quite stressful, as more humans whine and bitch about contracts and more demons make their way to the surface and attempt to perform unauthorized transactions, so he appreciates any instance he can to loosen up. He'll usually send at least ONE facet of himself to a bar constantly, to drink the stress away.
So begins...
Maynard B. Phipps's Story
"Now this is just asinine." The demon huffed before walking right out through the front door, briefcase in hand. He smoothed his fingers through his hair with a groan and turned to the clump of soldiers that were aiming for the door. His tail flicked in agitation before he belched up what tear gas he'd inhaled upon his exit into the soldiers' faces. "Bleh."
Maynard B. Phipps narrowed his eyes. Unless it was holy plasma, the effects were minimal, perhaps discoloration of his suit. "Really now?" He lowered his glasses and arched a single eyebrow. "Are you prepared to accept the consequences of your actions, I ask of thee?"
"Nobody is above consequences." He scoffed, cracking the knuckles of his free hand. "You can let me go, and we can forget this entire thing. Or you can be the lot of knuckleheaded mortals you are and keep firing. I'm game either way~"
Another day down. Or was it? He didn't know anymore. When you have done the same thing for well over 3000 years, all yours days tended to blur together. The demon pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose before calling out. "Oy! Barkeep. J&B on the rocks!"
Maynard B. Phipps glanced over his shoulder at Ancetus and company. Was there a deal being made? Or had been made. Ugh...he was too drained to notorize the pact for now. He'll do it later, when the 'paperwork' showed up on his desk back in Hell. He just wanted to get his drink on.
Phipps nursed his whiskey quietly, his spade-tipped tail flicking behind him idly as he pondered what sort of deviousness he could get up to tonight. And what sort of mood he was in. He was slowly rejuvenating though, as there was enough miasma floating around the place that he inhaled like the sweet oxygen human lungs craved.
Maynard B. Phipps knocked back the last of his whiskey before slamming the glass down on the wooden bartop. With a loud squealing noise he scooted back his barstool and stood up. The suited man then glanced down at his wrist, where an expensive-looking watch had materialized. However, the face of the watch would be foreign to anybody but Hellfolk, as it was completely black with no hands, just strange, wavering sigils. Who knew how one who is supposedly timeless kept track of the time. Either way, it looked like a good time to indulge in one of his guiltier pleasures, which was tucked conveniently in his breast pocket. Now all he needed was a bathroom countertop and a straw.
Maynard B. Phipps found the sudden increase in warmth quite comfortable! It reminded him of home. Ah home, with the plush bed comprised of only the finest quality souls. How he sorely missed it. Business trips were always wore him down. The Secretary shuffled out of the bathroom, snorting loudly as he wiped his nose, faint white rigns around each nostril. He was about to feel good, real good.
Phipps had only gotten the lack of the coke cleaned from his nose when the holy warrior started getting all up in his face. Unlike Shinsei, he was NOT invisible to normal eyes, so he looked pretty much like a suited lawyer having an argument with seemingly nothing. But that was probably not all that unusual as far as Gambit's bar went. He held up his hands.
"Upsetting what balance? I don't directly meddle with mortals, I'm merely a supervisor. Practically neutral."
"Upsetting what balance? I don't directly meddle with mortals, I'm merely a supervisor. Practically neutral."
"Because I indirectly work with mortals. And I like booze. Is that a crime?" The demon whipped out a cigarette from the inside of his suit jacket and put it between his lips and leaned forward to light it using Shinsei's flames. "Sides, aren't you tipping the scales yourself? Smells an awful lot like self-righteousness and 'goodness' in here now that you've showed up."
"I like the quiet. I can actually hear myself think for once." the demon mumbled out, appearing in an instant by Octavian and Joy, clutching a martini in his hand. It was never too late or early for alcohol as far as Phipps was concerned. However, it seemed he'd taken the liberty of adding his own garnish in the martini, as instead of an olive, an eyeball was skewered on the toothpick.
Maynard B. Phipps watched Octavian cringe before pulling the eyeball out and eating it off the toothpick. There, no more offending body part. He could already tell his stomach was going to hate him. He then caught Joy's staring before tilting his head. "See somethin' ya like?"
"If by strange you mean annoying and more dramatic than a a bus full of high-school theatre geeks, then yes." Phipps sipped his martini, pulling a stray red hair off his collar, a reminder of the debauchery he'd engaged in the night before.
Maynard B. Phipps watched the woman as well, taking note of her uneasiness. "Aw, sit on down, lady. I won't bite." He, on principle, didn't mess around with humans unless extremely intoxicated. So she was quite safe from any harm from him, despite the overwhelmingly demonic aura he oozed.
Maynard B. Phipps never understood why people were intimidated by him. Hell, he took a pleasing humanoid shape to lessen that factor even more! But it never seemed to do him any favors. Maybe one time, for the hell of it, he'd show up in his true form. He was pretty sure it'd still fit in the bar. He watched Yanni idly, swirling his martini.
"Run little rabbit, if you must." Phipps replied with a shrug. He didn't care about people unless they made him their business. He came to the bar to drink and unwind. Being the Chief Secretary of Hell is a very stressful job, considering humans just LOVED to make deals with the devil for a variety of stupid things.
Maynard B. Phipps snapped his fingers and refilled the martini glass before taking another sip. He flashed Yanni a Colgate smile, "Never too early for alcohol, sweetheart!" He then caught the few words coming from the 'cool kids table' and raised a single eyebrow. "Ain't it the truth? Can't say too much though, or else I'm not invited to the office Christmas party." And yes, they did celebrate Christmas down Below. But it was the terribly commercialized Christmas that glorified greed and envy, so it was all good. Also, the decorations were superb.
Maynard B. Phipps stood up with his glass, flicking his spade-tipped tail behind him. "You seem like a man who knows a good time, mind if I join you?" Hit on his head? Not very likely. As far as demons went, he was passive in his interactions with humans, he didn't hunt them, or tempt them, or, for the most part, fuck 'em. Hell, very few people knew he actually existed.
Either way, sinners were more fun to hang out with. He cast a glance over to Yanni and jerked his head towards Sang in an open invitation to join him once he was given the go-ahead to move over. It was her choice though.
Either way, sinners were more fun to hang out with. He cast a glance over to Yanni and jerked his head towards Sang in an open invitation to join him once he was given the go-ahead to move over. It was her choice though.
Maynard B. Phipps settled at the table across from Sang, almost greedily eying up the box of narcotics. At the invitation, he sampled through the box before settling on some of the best morphine in there and shoving the little packages into a breastpocket. He only gave a bemused grin at Sang's little sparkshow, "Wouldn't be so special where I hail from. It's a cute little trick though. Mind holding it for a sec?" And with that, he pulled out a classy cigarette case and removed one cancer and put it between his lips to light it on Sang's flame. He took a deep puff and exhaled, causing the cloud of smoke to waft towards the ceiling.
He paid only minimal attention to Daemon. Being he was crotchety, his entire demeanor towards the young-looking demon was 'you damn kids get off my lawn'.
He paid only minimal attention to Daemon. Being he was crotchety, his entire demeanor towards the young-looking demon was 'you damn kids get off my lawn'.