Noblesse Oblige | ||
Date Started: November 23rd, 2024 Date Finished: Ongoing Next Role-Play: Timeline: June 16th, 1620 Setting: Paradise Characters Involved:
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Participants | ||
User:TheRedFang06 • User:Notavenusflytrap • User:KontonMan • User:Isaacmax2003 |
Reject Thy Sins[]
Many would not call Teluris an inhospitable place. Between lush fields of crops, towering palaces that grazed the skies, and the constant protection, befitting one of the Twenty Kingdoms, that aided in its defense, quite a number of people would've seen it as a paradise.
But like every island, Teluris had an ecosystem. And whereas most landmasses' apex predators were fierce beasts of many shapes and sizes, the Kingdom's were arguably some of the most fearsome, most terrifying of all. Terrifyingly cunning, and quick to pounce on even their own should it be advantageous.
Teluris' worst monsters... were people. Cruel, powerful people, who unhesitatingly stabbed anyone and everyone in the back if it empowered them. Who looked down on all that did not meet their standards. Who overshadowed the few outliers capable of a feat as outlandish as empathy.
No. Teluris was a cruel place. It just hid that cruelty with a mask of order and beauty, while its boot crashed down on any poor fool who dared to be different than the way they were expected to be.
Poor fools like the young man trudging through the wilderness of the fief of Avonburgh, the cravat around his neck feeling rather tight. Which was rather poignant, considering the fact he had a snake coiled around himself, whose presence, by comparison, barely inconvenienced him. The creature stood upon his shoulder with practiced casualness, as he just as effortlessly moved to scratch his chin.
Morgan, after all, counted Basilisk among one of his very few friends. No one sought to be a friend of a Dampier, be it for fear, hatred, or anything in-between. He had already confided to him his plans, his ideas - now, all he had to do was to inform the other one. He only hoped she would take it as well...
As soon enough, Morgan and Basilisk reached a familiar location: A small, dark cave dug into the ground. His castle. Her lair. It had many names by now, but what mattered was that it was the one place in all of Avonburgh he felt safe in.
He breathed in, and stepped into it.
"Thea! It's us!"
He said, waiting for a response. Maybe, for once, it would be his turn to wait...
"Splendid, thy presence shall delight me once more sir Morgan!"
A voice with a very strong accent replied at his call deep in the cave, where she was on her self-proclaimed throne, a pile of rocks covered by a red rug, once discarded by her honorary family, she was the only daughter of the proud scholars of Teluris, the Ashbournes.
Some flags drawn with crayon decorated the walls of the cave, the years of antiqueness displayed on the fabrics once borrowed by the young maiden for their antics and now merely a memory of a childhood.
Fangs peeking out her lips as she held a glass of a bright red liquid held by her pale hand, her presence and whole attire similar to a vampire's led anyone to guess where the liquid came from, obviously Cranberries Juice which bottle was on the table, covered by a single handwritten label, "Human Blood. —Belongs to the Princess don't touch." A small drawing on the left corner, portraying a poorly drawn Dorothea.
Right, that was her, Dorothea the self-proclaimed Vampire Princess, she was waiting for him already, for how long? No one knows, and don't dare ask her highness.
"Thou art come at last. I hath awaited thy arrival. Pray, what tidings dost thou bear?" She vocalized an elegant laugh, but one of the fangs fell on the glass of cranb- Blood, this made her quickly grab the fake fang and put it on place as if nothing happened.
Morgan smiled at seeing his old friend waiting for him. Basilisk's expression was also clearly overjoyed, as he quickly leapt off of Morgan's shoulder, slithering close to Dorothea and wrapping around her leg in what could only be described as a snake's equivalent of a hug. Morgan let him do so - he did like Thea a lot, and as far as they both were aware, this could have been the very last time they'd see her.
"Hopefully, good. But I can't quite tell if that's the case just yet." He admitted as he got closer, positioning himself next to her. He would normally bow when meeting someone, but Thea was the one person he felt close enough to to forsake that.
"I've... come to tell you about something, Thea. Something... something big."
Dorothea smiled at the snake wrapping on her leg, raising it a slight bit just so her hand could reach for Basilisk's chin and pet it as she usually did, she wasn’t disgusted by a snake unlike her family, and most, not to say all, of the people in Teluris, she always was eager to treat and care for Basilisk as it was one of the few she trusted.
"Something stirs, dost it not? Sir Morgan, thou dost stir unease me!"
Morgan sighed somberly. She had hit the mark. He shifted his jacket, revealing something hidden just below it.
A gun. An ornate red and black revolver, fully loaded from the looks of it. Basilisk, basking in some additional chon-scratching, stopped to glare at the armament briefly before indulging fully in his preferential treatment again.
"...I've gotten the ship's ready. I'll be leaving the island in short order." Morgan said, almost regretful in his tone.
"I... we have come to talk to you again, before we do. One last discussion before I go. And hopefully, I don't get a firsthand look at the Ironsights' wreck..."
His tone was heavy, his words filled with sadness he didn't try to contain. He had to leave, for his own good - he knew that all too well, but the thought of leaving behind one of the few people he called a friend was almost enough to make him second-guess himself.
"...Pardon me. Goodbyes aren't my forte."
"EXCUSE ME?! GOODBYES?!" Dorothea screeched out of panic as she heard that single word, she wasn’t taken aback by the sight of a literal revolver, she cared more about him leaving, on an instant she had stood up, her leg where basilisk laid was still raised, but this only made her stumble back and lose balance with snake, glass of too liquid blood, and all, falling back on the stone throne making a bit of a mess. It must have hurt.
"Thea...!"
Morgan said as he moved forward, grabbing his friend's arm to help her up. Basilisk, whimpering slightly from the fall, slithered close to Dorothea, touching her face with his nose to see for himself if she was doing ok.
"...I have nothing here. The Dampier name is worth less than the dirt we step on. We are but impotent vassals incapable of making our own choices." He started to explain; "I have nothing to gain by staying. No one would care much anyway. But you? You're the heir to one of the Four Great Houses! You could order any one of my family members to lick your boots and they'd be duty-bound to do so. I... I don't want you to lose all of this for some dolt who could very well be heading towards his own end..."
Dorothea stood straight thanks to his help, the way Basilisk whimpered quickly made her worry for the snake, her hand served as a reassuring manner to let it know she wasn't hurt badly, it did hurt but she chose to ignore it completely.
Then her gaze turned to her dear friend. Eyes focused on him, every word he said making her frown more and more.
"Me? Me?! Cease this folly at once! I care deeply and I shall always care, for thou art my cherished friend!" She started, her hand moving Basilisk aside to confront Morgan directly. "I am no heir! This wretched family, steeped in madness, cares not for me. Morgan, surely thou dost already know the manner in which they scorn and cast me aside, not compared to those of thy blood." She stated.
"I am truly gladdened for thee, for thy resolve and the courage behind thy choice. Such bravery is rare, indeed. Yet, I beseech thee, grant me this one boon—lend thine ear to my words, if only this once..." Dorothea sighed. "In this moment, I care not to don the guise of a princess. I wish to speak plainly, as the adults we are."
Morgan tried, and failed, to look away. This was the exact reason why he was terrified of this encounter. Basilisk, seemingly picking up on his wielder's unease, slithered closer, climbing up on his body and positioning himself around his neck once more, as he usually did.
"Thea... You know full well I could not care less about this place's political games." He admitted. Every last one of those who partook in them was a rotten fool undeserving of his attention, out for their own good. "But even I know your family can do naught against the cycle of succession. Whether they like it or not, you are their sole heir, and you'll rule Avonburgh someday. You will be able to make a difference here. But as for me, for as long as I stay in Teluris... I have no future."
He uttered. He believed Thea was opposed to him leaving her, as all friends were. And who could blame her... Maybe that was just another betrayal to add to the Dampiers' impressive - and unknowable - tally of sins.
"I know well that this place holds naught of worth for thee, nor dost thou care to linger. I understand. Thou shouldst depart, seek thy path in the wide expanse of life, and find that which shall make thee shine as thou art destined to." Dorothea said looking at the floor for a moment, it was true, she didn't want to let go of it, of the only person that never judged her for acting like this, who never laughed at her in her own face, the only person she could call a best friend. Still there was something left to say, as in any conversation she always had something to say, the one thing that had the woman waiting for his arrival for hours.
"But there is something thou must know—I, too, yearn to flee. I wish to cast off these chains and leave this place behind aswell." She said, her gaze centering back on him, he could see the determination burning deep, even if it was not spelled directly there was something else, something fueling this fire inside of her.
"I have overheard the voices of mine own parents—the elders have spoken, and once more, they hath decided my fate without my say...."
Morgan and Basilisk both looked at Dorothea with a surprised expression. They thought she was going to try and convince them to stick around, to not leave, and... she wanted to come along?
The scion of the Dampiers would have protested under other circumstances. But he had the feeling this was far more significant than it seemed to be at face value - especially with her final words...
"...What did they say?" He asked, waiting for an answer. He almost felt the air leave his lungs afterwards...
"Dementia, they called it. Mentally unstable, they declared. Our noble house must not be so marred, they said. It is unthinkable, unfit. We shall not allow the future of our lineage to rest in the hands of... a demented girl." Dorothea quoted the conversation she overheard in that noble house of hers, a place where she is supposed to feel at ease, a place that her family holds, not to say this was not true for her it was everything but a familiar space especially in times like this.
"Our firstborn must needs uphold our traditions and beliefs, they proclaimed. A mad girl is naught but a stain upon our house—a shame too great to bear! This cannot stand. We must take this chance to rectify what we failed to achieve in years past, to set her upon the proper path. They spoke of changing my mind, of enlisting expert physicians who, they claim, might bend my will to theirs." She made a long pause, the silence invading the space, it was unspoken but the fear was at stake in the moment, her hands slightly shaking at the idea that was already on the process of being accomplished by the oh so called, Nobles Ashbournes.
"I don't want that."
CRACK
The sound of one of the pebbles dislodged from Thea's improvised throne cracking under Morgan's foot echoed through the cave. The meaning of his friend's words was completely obvious, and judging from the utterly murderous stare both him and Basilisk had - and the latter's tongue starting to look awfully metallic - they were far from happy about it.
"This... changes everything." He uttered, barely containing the need to ask Thea if he could use that revolver of his to put a hole in her parents' brains as a form of poetic justice. "To think them vile enough to even consider something of the sort...!"
He breathed in. He needed to contain himself. Basilisk, picking up on it, seemed to calm down ever so slightly in turn. "...We'll sail by tomorrow's dawn. I've hidden the ship in an old family estate in Kilmere Magna, in one of the few patches of lands we still own. What do you plan on bringing along?"
He asked, trying to bring some humor into the situation - however difficult that was.
Dorothea's eyes looked at him, the fear once filling them vanished and replaced by gratefulness for her Best Friend's quick decision, it was refreshing to know him and Basilisk had her back no matter what the situation.
She cleared her throat.
"I would indeed reclaim something, a treasure of great worth that they hold. Yet to succeed, we must strike under the cover of night." Dorothea explained, she seemed to have been plotting something, quite dangerous, but if well done it could be a dream come true for the likes of her.
"The greatest treasure of them all—mine own reward and rightful inheritance. I would wrest the bat from their grasp, seize it as mine own. Wilt thou aid me in this endeavor?"
Morgan nodded, extending his hand as a way to seal the bargain. Basilisk, too, joined in, as he dove into Morgan's shirt so that his head may peek out of his sleeve in order to participate.
"I'll do all I can and more for you, Thea. I swear on my honour."
"It is decided then" Her smile grew as her hand grabbed his to shake it without thinking twice, giving a small pat to Basilisk along the way, she was glad and more than excited to cause trouble with him as a goodbye later to this crappy kingdom, something that will for sure give the Ashbournes what they deserve.
"Thou art as noble as any knight, this shall be our greatest devilry. Hereby I swear a pact: I shall follow thee, not only as a friend but as one forever grateful." Dorothea spoke, sealing this small pact between friends. "Midnight, do not forget...Now! What is it that lies upon the agenda for the day?"
Morgan shook his head, placing his hand in his pocket. Basilisk slithered up his arm, wrapping around his shoulders and neck again, as the scion of the Dampiers hid his revolver again.
"Midnight." He confirmed, turning his back to the exit of the cave. "We'll get you your birthright, and leave this place. It's past time we showed our families we're more than just our last names."
"This shall be etched into the annals of Teluris' history, I assure thee. A mark well deserved." Dorothea chuckled looking in the exit's direction and then taking a step closer to it. "We need only wait until the stroke of midnight..."
"And wait we shall." Morgan affirmed, sighing as he turned his back on his friend. "I shall return to the Dampier estate and make my final preparations. Fare-thee-well, Thea - until tonight."
With that, the man and the serpent stepped out - making the last steps towards a brand new future.
"Ah, young lord." The familiar figure of the old butler was waiting for him at the door.
"Hello, Morrison. Any news?" Morgan asked, simply. He went to hand the man his jacket, but he saw that his hands were already occupied. He held... A crossbow bolt. And upon closer inspection, the notch in the door of the house showed exactly what had happened.
"It bore a letter with your name on it, Lord Morgan." Morrison explained as he handed the item to his master. The latter eyed it conspicuously. He knew full well whose calling card this was...
"...What does the Wolf demand of the Serpent now...?"
Food Chain[]
The dining room of Beresford Theo’s personal estate was not particularly ornate; not according to him. Mahogany wood floors with a stone fireplace built into the room. A large pelt rested across the floor as a carpet, a chimeric sewing of several beasts’ furs to create a true tapestry of beasts. It was more than likely it had been composed of ones hunted down by Theo.
The lighting itself remained dimmed, only illuminated by the ongoing flames and dim chandelier that hung from the vaulted ceiling. He sat at the head of the table, in clothes that combined his casual hunting garbs and formal attired. A tie protected by a vest, a large trench coat covering the rest of him.
Theo tapped the end of his cigarette in his ashtray, sitting at the head of the table. He could hear them approaching. It was time for dinner, after all.
Simply outrageous, Dorothea was the first to arrive the place, tightly held in her hand there was the crossbow bolt that had the letter wrapped around, this was no territory of hers, it belonged to the Beresfords and though she had been invited, she couldn’t help but feel out of place given the long history of animosity between both noble houses. The door opened slowly giving place to her arrival into the room, her eyes scanned the scene briefly, she just stood in the entrance for now.
"Beresford, what mischief dost thou scheme? 'Twas hardly necessary to pierce the door with a crossbow for an invitation—how uncouth of thee." she calmly spoke. The smell of cigarrettes wasn't something she wasn't fond of.
"Ah yes, the supposed vampire princess. Take a seat if you wish my mischief to be explained," Theo snapped his fingers and a pair of butlers walked into the room, pulling out a chair and setting a dish down. "I believe something simple would suit you. Inspired by the simplistic meal of 'chicken nuggets', I bring you Hawk Nuggets with,"
A butler squeezed out a viscous red onto the plate by the nuggets. "Blood."
Twenty nugget-sized chunks of hawk meat that had been coated in bread crumbed and fried, the meat having been prepared with garlic powder and smoke paprika; with black pepper as well. Garnish now rested atop the meal. The 'blood' remained to be handmade ketchup, made slightly sweeter than most by introducing genuine blood into it, though only a minuscule amount.
"I'd be quite hurt if you didn't at least try some." Theo smiled, though the corners of his lips never reached his eyes. "Think of it as me making up for being uncouth, as you say."
Even though the food looked exquisite to the eye her crimson gaze made sure to let him know how reclutant she was to try the dish, especially after such a wonderful plating for the dish, she sat in front of it, her gaze flickering between it and Theo, a small almost annoyed smile curling into her lips.
"How gracious of thee, to devote thy time to crafting such a delectable meal. Truly, thou needn't have been so... kind." She said, her hand grabbing the fancy silverware at her disposal on the table though she didn't make a move to pick anything just yet. "What is the occasion, I wonder? Surely the hunt for the hawk was not...without purpose." She made sure to emphasize on that single word.
"It was not necessarily for you and the Dampier, I find enjoyment in cooking." Theo nodded. He snuffed out his cigarette entirely. "And please, I'd never be as crass as to prepare you such haunting meat for the Bat family, no. It was all my father had stocked in my personal residence here."
Theo sighed. "I suppose he caught wind of my plan to invite you and the disgraced. Speaking of, where is he?"
As if on cue, the doors of the room opened - not so fast as to seem rude, but not slow enough to seem meek. Dampier Morgan, the 'disgraced' as he had just been called, strolled in with a composed slowness. The sheathed sword at his side made it clear this was a formal occurrence: Under all other circumstances, Basilisk would have appeared in his preferred, serpentine form.
"'The Disgraced'? Come now, Sir Beresford, if not for my kin's 'Disgrace' your family wouldn't have been able to become what it is today. You could at least show some gratitude."
He humored, performing a formal bow. He did not necessarily hate the Beresfords for what many other Dampiers called their 'Usirping' of Kilmere Magna... but that did not mean he liked them much. He was surprised Thea was there as well - it only confirmed his suspicions of this not being a normal dinner at all.
"I suppose this is no mere occasion to gossip and dine. But I suppose we would rather enjoy some of our host's... exquisite dishes before getting on to business, yes?"
"Indeed," Theo raised his glass of wine. "To the Dampiers; understanding enough to become victim to the hunt of the Beresford, unable to defend their seat from the likes of...what is it the people once said? Mongrel half-breeds?"
He took a sip from the glass and snapped his fingers. The same pair of butlers guided Morgan to their seat across from Dorothea and brought him a dish.
"I don't know you well, Dampier. Word of you would have you be as someone who doesn't quite specialize in anything. It's difficult to empathize and devise a meal to best represent people like you. So I elected for something...simple. You've certainly heard of stuffed quail yes?" Theo gestured his head and the silver dome was pulled from the plate to reveal the meal within. "Smoked mongoose meat stuffed with mushrooms and cheese. Though mongoose meat has been known to quite gamey, smoking it and preparing it in the right concoction makes it a delicacy."
"And for the Heraldic Snake there is some vole on the side." Theo set his glass down and spread his arms. "My guests, try your meals."
Morgan could feel Basilisk vibrating ever so slightly at his hip at the mention of the meal. A sword he may have been, but he still had many characteristics from the animal whose fruit gave him life. And one of those was, in no small part... predators.
He sighed and took a seat. Obvious symbolism aside, Theo did have at least some reason to go out of his way to prepare meals tailor-made to spite him. It was centuries old at this point, but the Dampiers were far from the fairest of masters to the Beresfords, back when they ruled Kilmere Magna. He may not have agreed with holding a grudge for so long, but he wasn't one to bring it up.
"I am... delighted. I must admit, while I am a practitioner of the culinary arts myself, mongoose has thus far been outside my purview - both on the plate, and in the kitchen. Let us see if it is as exquisite as you claim it is."
He started to cut his food with the calm methods befitting a highborn noble, as he alternated between looking at Beresford and Thea.
"The two Houses you historically have a... less than stellar history with." He started; "I am surprised. Is this perhaps done so that our families may bury the metaphorical hatchet once me and Lady Ashbourne inherit the Houses of the Serpent and the Bat?"
With that question asked, he started to eat. Judging from his expression soon after, he did enjoy the taste of Theo's meal, though he'd likely elaborate more on his feelings on the matter at a later point of the evening.
Dorothea glanced at Morgan who was already trying his meal, a small sigh of frustation left her lips, she had hoped Morgan didn't try the meal so she wouldn't, she indeed didn't trust Theo at all from how her family spoke to her about the Beresford she still believed it was not worth trying deep inside of her guts.
"I believe it not, Sir Morgan. The wolves, merciless hunters by their nature, and yet here we sit—within their very jaws, partaking of a feast prepared with curious care, as though for us alone..." She spoke, trying the first nugget by dipping it in the sweet sauce, a moment of silent was set before she spoke again.
"Nuggets are not to mine own liking, yet the sauce lends them a certain charm, does it not? My deepest compliments to the chef"
Theo placed a hand over his heart. "Kind words, vampire. I did expect you to enjoy the sauce, and I'm quite glad I've been able to make something so fitting for someone as...unique as yourself."
"And it is not exactly as you say, Dampier. There is no hatchet that I seek to bury. Disdain, you see, is a powerful motivator. As are all powerful negative emotions." A flame flickered in and out of existence as Theo fidgeted with a steel lighter in his hand. "I can elaborate more, of course. Though that is dependant on what you say next."
Theo shut the lighter. "Why have you prepared a ship, Dampier?"
...Well, shit.
Morgan sighed. He planned on leaving Teluris on relatively peaceful terms - have Basilisk snatch the Fruit when no one was watching, give it to Thea, and sail off in the night with her, as they had planned but a scant few hours prior. Of course, he assumed no one would care enough to look into the affairs of the Accursed Line.
But he had forgotten about the hunting dogs of the Ansteys.
"What is there to say, Sir Beresford?" He admitted. No use in denying it - Theo's family was one that dealt in facts, and the chances of him bluffing on something so specific were abysmal. "Ships have but one purpose. To bring its passengers away. I simply plan on leaving Teluris while retaining the freedom being my own navigator gives me, rather than relying on some rigorously scheduled cruise. I know this may be new to House Beresford in particular, but hunting trips do tend to be quite dull when they are the sole reliable form of entertainment one can engage in. I intend on... going on an 'excursion' , if you will, and escape this utterly unspirited routine - at least for a little while."
He completely withheld Thea's involvement. Maybe he could try and get her off the hook, at least for the time being. It didn't need to be completely airtight - it just needed to work for one night.
Dorothea was awfully silent, she had already finished trying the plate since her subconscious refused to eat any further than two nuggets, of course the dog had to stick its nose in unconventional places and exactly in times like this it was a risk, they didn't need someone else spreading word or it would only complicate things further, she decided to play the silent witness looking at Morgan and then at Theo, hoping the topic wouldn't escalate.
"Right," Theo downed his entire glass. "It's strange though. It doesn't seem to be a ship fit for one. Larger than a ship I'd expect the Dampier's could reasonably afford for a boy's whim to journey on his own. It's almost as if...you wish to become some sort of sailor. And not on your own, yes?"
Theo grinned, mischief coiled on his face. "Let's be honest with one another. Herald to Herald."
"Oh, Founder's sake, have your masters not taught you you're not supposed to dig too deep?" Morgan smirked. He trusted Theo would have come to the right conclusion already, and he wouldn't budge and admit some metaphorical 'defeat'.
"You have answered your own question, Sir Beresford. I plan on leaving, and not coming back. The ship is large enough to account for poor marooned victims of the sea, any additional supply... And a fair amount of rats to last me the whole trip. I'm not traveling alone, you see - and my friend tends to get quite hungry every so often."
Theo rose. "Very well, I will be accompanying your lot then."
"Oh, so fi-"
Morgan was about to launch himself into an exposé on Theo being the very first Beresford in recent history to finally 'stop digging', as he himself had put it, but his host's words froze him. Silence fell inside the room for a good few seconds, before the Dampier inheritor collected himself and escaped the paralysis he had been put in.
"...Please forgive my crassness, but... WHAT?!"
He uttered in genuine disbelief, having expected quite literally any other answer.
Theo did everything he could to mask the expression of glee that wanted to manifest onto his face. He had caught him off guard. But instead he maintained his composure; his face returning to that of someone filled with nothing but disdain and apathy. “Right, I shall explain. It’s not for any reasons to scorn you, it’s simply selfish.”
“Father has chosen to change how the line of succession works in the family this generation. He plans on…providing the house and all of its assets to whichever one of his children can find some information for him.” Theo snapped his fingers as a third butler came from a far room, carrying a duffel bag before setting it down next to Theo. “I wish to discover this information as well. And so, I shall accompany you.”
He turned his gaze to Dorothea. “And the vampire, I assume is accompanying the two of us?”
Dorothea was completely baffled after listening to everything, her eyes wide open as she stared at both of them caught also off guard by the turn of events in just a moment.
"And pray what leads thee to think I am entangled in this, wolf? I have matters of greater import than to partake in thy sailor's games." Dorothea hissed the words his way, she was not very fond of the idea and Morgan had the last word, still her curiosity was greater even if she tried to act as if her presence was not involved in her friend's plans.
"...And to think I was about to commend your temperance, Sir Beresford." Morgan sighed, as he placed his hands in his pockets. He looked at the Duffel Bag in Theo's hands, and...
"Now, now. Stay your tongue, Thea. He has no reason to go against us." He said. He looked at Theo, as if to establish a silent, yet very clear mutual understanding.
"Even if you were lying, you'd gain nothing of it, Sir Beresford." He broke the quiet; "So be it. You may set sail with us. So long as you help us with... a certain thing first."
“I don’t mind assisting you in your tasks, it’s a quid pro quo. I don’t mind as long as I get to inherit the Beresford name.” Theo slung the bag over his shoulder. “I’d like to clarify something though.”
“There is no world in which I end up your lackey. Your subordinate. I assume that you will be picking up others on the way? You’re not equipped to sail long-term on your own. Seldom few are. And as such, I will be a leader alongside you; your vessel after all. I will not be subordinate. I will be offering advice and tasks for others that we may pick up.”
Theo raised a finger. “Reason number one. I am likely the best Hunter the Beresford have produced. Beasts, man, or information. I can hunt it all down. Should you be seeking something, there is no one better equipped to find it than me. And best of all, I can do it quietly. Reason number two. I will never see myself as a lackey. You’d be better off having me by your side as a fellow leader. It’s a role I’m accustomed to, I’ve run this estate on my own since I was but a child.”
“And of course, we don’t want to know the third reason.” Theo said. “It may come off as a threat.”
Morgan sighed again. The apple had clearly not fallen far from the tree with Theo.
"Lackey? Sir Beresford, in or out of Teluris, you are still the scion of a Noble House. I could never see you as my lackey - does it look like I bear the name Anstey?" He spoke, clarifying his point.
"Our families may not be on amiable terms, but even we Dampiers speak with envy of the Beresford hunters. I am more than fine with giving you a position of leadership. Founder, I'll gladly defer to your experience if it is so needed. So long as you do the same for me and recognize my status as the one who came up with our little operation, I shall agree to your terms. A... 'primus inter pares' situation, if you will. Is it agreeable to you?"
With that, Morgan reached out a hand, to see if Theo would accept.
Theo's face almost contorted into something else; the cheerful look of a child, but remained stalwart. He clasped onto Morgan's hand with a firm nod. "Partners, then. Refer to me as Theo from here on then...Morgan."
"I suppose I shall look forward to working alongside thee, wolf..." Dorothea commented standing up from her seat to glance at both guys. "What a curious assemblage we have forged, though I confess I don't mind it...that much."
"Well then." Morgan mentioned, cracking his neck to the side. "We have one last stop to make. I suppose you have visited Avonburgh already, Theo, but I advise you savor the view... we won't be welcomed there anymore soon enough."
As he spoke, the sword at his hip morphed, Basilisk reassuming his snake form as he slithered over his chosen wielder's body in order to lounge around his neck as he usually did.
"I suppose a hunter is as good at covering his tracks as he is at discovering those of others, no? Then we should have little trouble."
"Of course," Theo grinned. "The quarry never finds the hunter."
"Father shall not be present this day, thus our path should be an easier one. They have... arrangements to attend to." As she spoke, it took Dorothea a small moment to keep talking. "We shall slip in, claim the great bat, and vanish without a trace, leaving naught but silence in our wake!"
A hiss of approval came from Basilisk, as he playfully hit its tail against Morgan's shoulder, mimicking a fist hitting a palm.
"Kobububu..." Morgan chuckled, a hint of glee in his voice at finally being able to see the world outside Teluris' metaphorical walls. "The old Ashbournes shall be left with exactly what they deserve. Nothing."
All that was left for them to do now... Was to wait for nightfall.
The Coming of Age[]
"Quickly...!" Morgan uttered, running off to the small crevice he had brought the ship so that they could escape promptly. They may have been a bit rough around the edges, but they had done it. The Batto Batto no Mi - the pride and joy of the Ashbournes, symbol of their status, now belonged to its true, rightful heir.
At Theo's behest, everyone had split up in order to minimize the risk of being caught, with plans to reconvene at the ship. Morgan himself was running, Basilisk held as a sword in one hand and his revolver in the other, the jacket he wore above his shoulders fluttering behind him.
"Once we reach the ship, we'll have but a short while to escape undetected." He muttered; "Though having brought it here to Avonburgh already does give us an advantage - fewer preparations are required. Considering the amount of time we have...!"
He uttered, clearly overthinking... And not noticing he was about to run headfirst into a tree. He inevitably faceplanted, falling to the floor and grasping his head with a hand. Basilisk, as he usually did, turned to its snake form and moved to check on his friend. A few hisses of encouragement left its mouth.
"Ugh! I know we need to hurry, Bas! Damn it all, it hurts... let me get up...!"
He muttered, grunting, as he got back up. He fetched Basilisk from the ground, the serpent wrapping around his arm - better to warn Morgan of any other obstacle in case he went off to fairyland again - and broke into another sprint, clearly intending to make up for lost time.
"Come on, come on, come on...!"
"I should have brought a jacket.." Dorothea mumbled to herself as she made her way towards the ship, she got it memorized by now after all the effort it still hurt to leave the place were she grew up behind, even with what her family wanted to do. She was closer to the meeting area out of the three of them, the hidden embarkation was already on sight from her range of view so all she had to do was keep going.
Back there she played the role of the actress in their little Heist, distracting the guards for the other two to snatch the fruit, what she did not expect was to be the first near, no sight of a single soul along the block, and it was freezing cold.
"Hmm...Soon the bat's dissappearance should be noticed..." She thought deeply starting to walk now that she was close to the ship.
"I hope Mother forgives me.."
Theo had taken a much further route. More twists, more turns. He had let strands of his hair fall in different directions, leaving false tracks in a variety of directions. He sought to completely trap and bamboozle those who had sought to follow him into a labyrinth of falsehoods only a master hunter could create. To set them completely off his trail without it seeming as if that had been in the plan in the firstplace.
It helped that throughout, he'd set false trails for the others, making it difficult for them to be found as well.
He moved between alleyways and on the top of roofs, on all-fours to keep himself lower to a surface and more likely to be ignored in a quick gaze. Theo arrived at the ship much later than the rest of his newly-made comrades, but he had certainly ensured none of them had been followed.
Theo leaned against the side of the ship; arms crossed.
"So," Theo searched for something within his jacket. "Is the vampire going to eat the fruit?"
Soon, the duo would be met with the sounds of running. While it may have brought forth suspicion and worry, it turned out to just be Morgan, finally arriving.
"Sorry if I'm late! I just got worried they'd learn what path I used, so... Oh, forget it."
He got close to Thea, slowly reaching for the treasure he had safely stored in a bag hanging from his belt. The Batto Batto no Mi, in its full glory. The token of their victory. Soon, he handed it to Thea - it was hers by birthright, and she would decide what would be of it.
"Theo, could you drop everything on board while I undo the rope? Oh, and... I advise you all to take one good look at this place. It could be the last time we see it."
Dorothea grabbed the fruit as careful as she could as if ait was but a valuable porcelain object cradled in her hands, something she only dreamed about and at her fingers reach finally, it was worth everything for her.
"At long last, we meet... O bat of legend. When I consume thee, we shall become as one—just as the Devil fruits legends foretold." She said holding the Batto Batto no Mi before taking a bite out of it...
"BLEGH"
It took Dorothea everything in her might not to spit the little bite from how awful it tasted, using a hand to cover her mouth she forced herself to swallow.
Theo rolled his eyes. "You realize I could've cut it up? Prepared it for you in a way that wasn't so...gut-churning? Though you've consumed it. Do you know how to transform?"
"Silence thy tongue wolf, I would never suffer thy sullied hands to defile something so sacred." Dorothea pointed her hand at him as she spoke, though she did not feel any changes in her body, aside from the bitter taste the fruit had left.
"I know not... Should I feel aught? As it stands, I feel not the makings of a vampire within me, not yet..." She quickly made her way up to the side of the embarkment where the water could be met, looking at her own reflection for any changes she even opened her mouth to see if the fake fangs she normally wore were replaced or not.
"According to what's been told among us, Basilisk took some time to get used to it too." Morgan commented. His serpentine friend looked at him with a hint of displeasure, but ultimately nodded.
"It is said that, as a result, he initially became un untamed beast who lashed out against everything and everyone, to the point where he was shackled to the ceiling of a crypt. Only after one of my ancestors let herself be bitten, did he start trusting us. And now you can bribe him with a dead rat and some appeals to ego."
Basilisk proceeded to slap his friend's arm with his tail, clearly upset by his prying into what could only be compared to 'personal affairs'. Morgan didn't seem to mind all that much, as he casually approached the rope.
"Hopefully we don't have to treat you with the same measures, Thea - though I do have a feeling you'd rather enjoy it."
"Visualization is key." Theo pulled out the cigarette he had been searching for and balanced it between his lips. His right arm melded and shifted, becoming coated in gray fur as his fingers elongated into obsidian black claws. He flexed his claws for a moment before the arm returned to normal. "Zoan's are limited only by their imagination and mastery of their own body. Just visual it, taking another shape you are not."
He smirked. "Or we could climb to the crow's nest, and I could push you off."
"How annoying..." a mumble only for her to hear.
Dorothea glanced at both of them from the side, anyone could the irritation reflected in her irises and overall expression was directed towards the wolf, of course that comment wasn't that funny to her, she reincorporated back into her usual standing stance, her hands moving to remove the fake fangs out of her mouth putting them back in a small velvet pouch, visualization.
The girl tried to relax herself, facing both guys as she tried to accomplish that, it was a bit hard for her to concentrate find that little flame inside herself that could fuel the trigger. Her chest rose and fell slowly as her mind clarified and conceptualizied her dream, the reason that gave sense to her existance, as she did so two sleek leathery wings slowly unfurl from her back each wing extending with a faint whispering sound aside from the slight rip of cloth the outgrowth had caused on her back.
Though no sign of pain was heard coming from the young maiden, the curve of her furrowed brows showed she was undergoing some kind of resistance.
"Has it been done...?" She mumbled softly dropping to her knees, a hand coming to her head as if the sudden dizziness could be taken away by holding herself there.
Theo pointed to the wings. "Told you."
"...They look majestic." Morgan barely managed to get out before turning his head to look at Basilisk. "Was your first time like this too?"
The serpent nodded, and his friend sighed. A simple hand gesture from the latter beckoned him, and he took the form of a sword in a flash. After a glance around himself to ensure everything they needed was loaded, Morgan severed the rope holding the ship with a precise and casual slice.
"So it begins, my friends. We're off to lands uncharted!"
He looked at the blade in his hand. A symbol of House Dampier's former office, a renowned sword, an effigy of their lost Sin... Basilisk was many things. But none of that mattered now - for Teluris and its empty titles would soon be but a speck on the horizon. And all that would matter...
Would be that Basilisk, above all else, was his friend. Just like the two other nobles he had with him - the finest scions of the Telurisian houses, sailing the seas to islands unknown.
The thought brought a grin to his face.
"I know I promised I'd treat you as an equal, Theo." He mentioned; "But, please, allow me this one liberty."
He got close to the mast of the ship, and lowered a rope. Above the sail, a banner unfurled - revealing a crest. A crimson array of lines and points, not seen in decades. The ancient Heraldic crest of House Dampier, stripped away from them when they were removed from their position, now flew free once more.
"So that the name Dampier will no longer be recalled as that of the Sinners of Teluris - but as that of its most valorous scion."
He uttered, raising his sword into the air as if performing an oath.
From where she was, lying on the floor as the dizziness slowly vanishing from her consciousness a hand was raised, though she didn't seem eager to stand up right now she still wanted to support her friend from there.
"This remains thy journey, Sir Morgan. Yet so long as thou wouldst have me I shall walk this path beside thee, my dear friend."
"The symbol does not matter," Theo nodded. He'd sail under whatever flag he had to if it meant inheriting the family. It was the first step in his dreams to conquer the entirety of Teluris. "As long as I'm recognized as amongst you and the vampire as a leader, I'd sail under a potato sack."
He waved a hand dismissively. "An honour to sail with you two, blah, blah. Shall we go?"
Morgan smirked. Basilisk once more returned to its beast form as it wrapped around his friend's body, allowing him to reach out a hand and help Dorothea up.
"You could be somewhat more poetic, Theo, but I appreciate you humoring me. Now, no use in waiting. Farewell, Teluris - if we ever do... may we return to your shores triumphantly!" With that, the young nobleman turned Pirate Captain turned his back to his home...
And started staring down the unknown.
Tossers Tossed Around[]
The disappearance of the Scions of two Great Houses, as well as one of the renowned Heraldic Fruits, had immediately become a national sensation on Teluris.
Rumors immediately started circulating - that the Dampier inheritor and his "blasphemous serpent" companion had kidnapped them with every intention of holding them for ransom. An investigation was launched, bearing little fruit. Fair to say, everyone expected the poor heirs to be the victims of some horrifying torture, tormented by the cruel scion of the 'Accursed Line'...
"I assure you, my friends - some self indulgence will not hurt our plans! Besides, we could make quite a bit of money from it if we wish to risk it. As they say, it's a win-win!"
...The very same young man that had just told them he had signed himself up for an unofficial fighting match on the island they had just stopped on, for no reason other than to know how it felt to battle without the rigid standards set by Telurisian duels.
"Oh please Morgan," Theo rubbed the bridge of his nose. Two weeks with these two had been an experience to say the least. Morgan was often dedicated in the cause other than his tendency to be distracted and indulge himself. And Thea? Her simply being herself often was enough to give him a headache.
He sighed. "Have you ever fought in a setting that isn't a duel? I assure you, they are vastly different. Maiming and murder are a common result; even for the winner."
Morgan briefly looked down at his feet, bringing a hand to his chin. Basilisk, knowing what counter-question was coming, moved to conceal himself in his friend's jacket.
"Does being whipped count?" The scion of the Dampiers said, unaware of the implications of what he had just uttered.
"What?" Whatever the implication was, it seemed to go over Theo's head. "I suppose if the opponent is using a whip, you'd be whipped. Have you gone delirious at sea already?"
Morgan tilted his head, curious about Theo's answer. "No?" He said, confused, as he simply shrugged.
"Father used to whip me when I failed to meet his standards while he taught me how to duel. Wrong posture, improperly timed footwork, wrong grip on Basilisk... Did your parents not do that?"
He asked, as if it was a routine occurrence. The sheer casualness with which he had mentioned the act implied just how often it had happened.
"Your father would get along with mine," Theo tilted his head to the side. Strangely, it made Theo respect Morgan some more. "My father punished us in different ways. Though being whipped in that way does not count as a real fight. You never fought back, it seems. At least today you'll get to hit back."
"Basilisk did that for me once." Morgan smiled, reaching a hand in his jacket to pull out the clearly embarrassed serpent, who obviously did not want the story to get to that point. "Bit Father straight on the tongue and left him in bed for a few days. Me and Mother still joke that he was trying to kiss him."
A frustrated hiss left Basilisk mouth, his expression clearly disgusted at the prospect.
"Frankly? I'm stoked. I've only dueled twice in my life and it was an utterly intoxicating feeling. Hopefully this is even slightly like that."
Theo grinned; as if a hunter had finally found its quarry. "Even better."
"What manner of twisted sharing of childhood woes is this? Have we, perchance, stumbled into a therapy session unawares?" Dorothea said looking at both of them from the door's frame, a cup of tea in her hands as the confusion and a small spark of unease could be found in her temple.
"Of all people, you," Theo turned to face Dorothea. "Are not fit to be the therapist."
"And who, pray tell, declared that I wish to play the role of therapist? Thou pest-ridden wolf!" Dorothea glared at him. "I have no desire to hear thy lamentations, not in the slightest."
"For once, you're correct. My mistake. How could you play such a role when it is you who so clearly requires it!" Theo retorted.
Dorothea was sipping her tea when he spoke making her choke on the warm beverage.
"ME? I am not the one striving to win the favor of my family! Those are thy own familiar issues to reckon with."
"Shall we address the elephant in the room?" Theo spread his arms out wide. "No? I'd love to talk about the set of FAKE. FANGS. That you keep on you. A 'vampire' would not need such an accessory. Are you getting what I'm saying? Or must I speak in your absurd tongues?"
An over-dramatized gasp left her lips.
"I am a true vampire now—the Vampire Princess to thee, pestilence! Were it my wish I could drain the very blood from thy veins and leave thee naught but a husk. Yet I wager it would taste as foul as thy wretched self!"
"I wish thou would shuteth upeth with your fanciful bullshit!" Theo pointed a finger at Thea. "You are are a BAT. That is the scope of your vampiric boons. Can you even fly yet?"
"I-I can, of course... It is just that I am far too weary to do so... always." She crossed her arms looking in a different direction from him...yeah it was a whole lie. "Besides, it matters not. Thou art but one-quarter wolf!"
Theo clapped uproariously. "Well done! Excellent! You're able to ascertain the extent of my transformation! Brilliant; stating the obvious. Why don't you give us a display of your other talent? Surely all the rest you've done and your tea has invigorated you. Fly, Dorothea. Fly."
"How vulgar! I am no buffoon for thee, nor shall I follow thy commands. Should I take flight again, it shall be to throw thee off-board!"
"I suppose," Theo sighed. "I have no doubt a real vampire could fly. But I suppose you are not, yes?"
"Hmpf, I am, and thou art a fool for doubting it. I can scarce stand thee. It is broad daylight; a vampire does not take flight under the sun's harsh gaze. I shall remain indoors and enjoy a snack instead." Dorothea said waving her hand at him dismissively.
"Oh, you haven't heard?" Theo tilted his head to the side. "Never mind. This only confirms my suspicions of your falsehoods."
"Heard? Heard what?" Dorothea glared at him from the side.
"No, I really shouldn't." Theo sighed.
Dorothea turned around with a frown on her expression, she stood in front of him with a piercing glare.
"Speak! What is it that thou knowest?"
"Well, it's just what I know as a Hunter of the Beresford. Surely you are aware of the...distaste we hold for real Vampires." Theo shook his head with closed eyes. "When a real Vampire consumes a Devil Fruit, the broad daylight does not prevent their abilities from showing. Nor does it harm them."
Theo crossed his arms. "And here you are, proclaiming that the daylight is the reason you shall not fly. Thus; thou art not a real Vampire."
"You... Youu! I am done with thee! Of course, I knew it, but I simply...uhm...did not wish to play thy game or obey thy commands. I would never heed the words of a stinky Beresford!" Dorothea pointed a finger at him.
"Look at you, still trying to avoid the test of flight, Ashbourne." Theo clicked his tongue in disappointment.
"Thou art such an aggravating man, Thou dost drive me to madness! I shall accept thy little test, only to prove to thee that I am the true Vampire Princess!" Dorothea huffed in frustration.
"Very well, lead the way. I shall follow."
"Follow? I thought thou hadst those test fields in mind!" Dorothea shook her head in disappointment. "I shall make my way to the crow's nest and take flight from there. From thy place below, thou shalt witness how I was right all along. Do you agree, wolf?"
Theo stood by the door frame. "Yes, yes. Go ahead, Dorothea."
The loud sound of a fist hitting the main mast thrice echoed in the air, with the clear intent of drawing attention to its owner. Morgan looked at the two noblemen in front of him, his gaze ever so slightly disappointed as he crossed his arms.
"I ask you to contain yourselves, gentlemen." He admonished them, sighing; "You may quarrel for whatever reason you may have at a later date. But now is neither the place, nor the time, to act like bickering children arguing about whose house is the biggest - especially when it could result in one of our own getting hurt with no one having the competences needed to heal them!"
Basilisk threw him a bizarre glance. Wasn't he just talking about how he had signed up for a match...? Morgan paid it no mind.
"Am I clear? Whether in or out of our home, we remain scions of noble houses. Let us act as such."
"Do not look at me with disdain, Dampier." Theo whispered sharply. "You're the one who's decided to have fun and engage in your first real fight. I was simply having some fun of my own."
Morgan sighed, regarding Theo silently. Basilisk gave his friend a worried look as well.
"Let us make haste to the arena."
He uttered, simply, as he grabbed his revolver. A quick inspection of the cylinder confirmed every chamber was loaded, but he grabbed a few extra bullets just in case, storing them safely in his pockets. With that, the young man went to leave the ship, no other words leaving his lips.
Relieved of the pressure throwing herself from a highground had left in her head, Dorothea smiled triumphant even if in reality none of the two won the argument.
"Indeed, we must not arrive late, for that would be most inelegant." She snickered.
"...I expected this place to be more civilized."
Morgan grimaced as he saw the crowd cheering, the noise almost bringing him to cover his ears. They had no restraint or composure: it was nothing like a duel, where spectators observed in tranquil excitement at best, and worried silence at worst.
"Is every fight truly this.. devilishly loud?"
"No modals it seems" Dorothea said looking around the area a bit uneasy by how the crowd was practically howling in excitement to see people getting hurt. Oddly enough was to see her using sunglasses and an umbrella held tight in her hands, probably not risking taking the sunrays directly.
"You folk need to dirty your hands more, of course a fight is loud." Theo rolled his eyes. "They're putting their everything into it. It's not only their livelihood, it's their way of life. I'm sure the delusional one is yet to lift a hand in violence, but even you, Morgan. You've only dueled, yes? Only ever trained for that?"
Theo's eyes became dark as he glared deep into Morgan's eyes. "A fight is no place for honour. Cast it aside. Nobility holds no place in the real world, where we don't play pretend on Teluris. Winning is all that matters. Honour is but a shackle."
Morgan looked at Theo, one raised eyebrow communicating his feelings. He did understand what the necessity of his statement was, but he also had his own feelings on the subject. Casting aside honour entirely was not something he was willing to do.
"I have dueled twice, Theo. Once, on my father's behalf when a gentleman challenged him over some perceived sleight I do not care to remember. Another, against a cousin ,for ownership of Basilisk." He clarified at his comrade's request; "The first actually took his loss in stride. We went to first blood, I beat him, we shook hands, and he went on his merry way. The second... Well, I beat him at first blood. Then we went to third. Then he insisted on going to fifth. He had to be removed from the premise by our observers before he escalated to a duel to the Death."
He explained. Basilisk clearly winced in horror at the idea of being owned by that delectable man - clinging even closer to Morgan, who affectionately rubbed a finger over his head to calm him down.
"One deserved honour. One did not. We shall see if my enemy will take after one, or the other."
Basilisk, acknowledging Morgan's intent, returned to his sheathe and to his original form. Soon, the battle would start, after all.
"Right right, well." Theo sighed. "No one deserves honour. Not when it comes to victory. Good luck, Dampier."
"Hopefully I won't need it." Morgan commented, turning to Theo with a smirk. He appreciated the comment, even if their views on the upcoming battle disagreed.
As the conversation reached its ends, the cheers raised in mirth. People grew crazed in the excitement of the challenge ahead, some with hushed whispers, others with manic excitement at what was next. But laced within all their words tinged the words of a champion. Many titles were thrown. The undefeated champion, ruler of the ring, the strongest of them all, and the one and only they had all come to see. Their excitement was palpable, but the nobles did not need to wait on the words platitude to see whom all whispered about.
In the next moment, noise soon returned to the Arena. Light came alive, all pointing towards the ring, brightening the view for all to see.
Two people stepped onto the ring. Soon, what was thought to be the max volume for the nobles then went upwards fivefold at the appearance of those who stepped on. “THAT’S THEM!” A person screamed only for their voice to be drowned out by the others. It was an indication that the champion had arrived, but to whom that title belonged was another story altogether.
On the right side of the ring weighed in a hefty fellow. His size and stature dwarfing those of average standing almost several fold. Their body and face were riddled with the scars of battles past. Some humans and others were practically inhuman from the proportions and difference in depts and level to it all, making it hard even to believe one to have survived such measured wounds. And their face. It screamed with a murderous gleam akin to that of a shark smelling fresh blood in the open water.
The opposing corner stood the total opposite. Standing on the shorter end of the totem pole was one who could only be called a dwarf in comparison to her opponent.
Despite this mismatch of opponents, the crowd's faces still showed anticipation.
Before the bell was rung, the man took the first step. Walking all the way over he reached the dainty lass. The moment they came close it was made even more obvious the difference between the two. Staring down he reached one hand down to his foe, giving her a vile grow.
“Well, this is a disappointment. I was told I’d be given a challenge, but you can’t even be called a proper meal. So how about this sweet piece? I’ll let walk, but how about you and me meet back up in the back to have some real fun as a form of repayment for my kindness? What do you say, hun?”
Licking his lips, it was made obvious the intent behind his words and actions was what he was truly after. A silence held over the short lass after the words had been told. Whether it was out of fear or something else was unsure. Soon her hand raised to come close to the man's own. Picking up the arm, she held it and then looked up at him with a smile. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you.”
Without any other words to be said the bell was rung and then.
CRUNCH!!!
A sickening sound invaded the air and what followed was a shrill scream. Spotting what happened could only be called painful. The man. One who could be called confident and radiated nothing but victory…had his arm fractured. Skin and bone bent the wrong way, in fact, if one looked closer his bone seemed to have torn through the skin popping out. His body slumped to the floor huddled in pain whilst holding back the remainder of his once whole arm. “YOU BIT…” Before those words even left his lips what greeted him next was an uppercut to the chin. Another sound could be heard before any knew the man had fallen flat. His body turned hushed, and consciousness soon vanished.
Staring down at her foes, a foot was planted down upon their head. Silence settled, and in the next, the crowd went wild. People wailed and groaned, banners were raised, and chanting soon was heard. “VAL! VAL! VAL! VAL! VAL!” There it came. The name of the so-called champion and the one to whom all present had come to see. Valentina had shown her face.
Morgan was halfway between being impressed by the woman's dedication to victory and annoyed by the crowd's deafening roars. Whereas he had kept himself limited to a slow clap, they were crying out as if the woman had just won them a war. How uncouth...
"I suppose that is our call. Hopefully you cheer me on, you two."
He nodded to Dorothea and Theo, as he slowly moved away. Soon, he'd be seen entering the arena himself - sword drawn and gun already unholstered.
"Before we begin." He said, bowing slightly while keeping eye contact. "You face Dampier Morgan, firstborn heir of House Dampier. Pleased to make yout acquaintance, miss..."
Of course, his upbringing and tendencies had not left him. It was customary for two duelists to introduce themselves prior to the start of combat, and he was not about to forsake those ancient traditions.
Turning away from the crowds of bloodlust audience howling out her name, hands to her hips Valentina shifted to face the new challenger in her kingdom of blood and sweat.
Her head tilted confusion marning her face as an eyebrow raised in observation of the man's mannerisms and formality sizing them up.
“The hell is this?”
A forward question was asked. It was devoid of formality and gentleness, unbecoming of a lady of any standing but one fitting of one such as herself. Though tinted between her words a light chuckle could be heard escaping her lips alongside the question she raised.
“Hehe, well there, Mr. Fancy Pants. This is a first. This ring doesn’t normally receive such kindness or pleasantries. Though, looking at you, are you sure you're not in the wrong place? I’ve heard that if you exit and walk a few blocks down to the left, you’ll find a local tea party with your name on it.”
From that, a light chuckle escaped the crowd and Valentina in unison. A light smirking made present itself upon her lips as she drew entertainment from ancient traditions that Morgan so faithfully held on to.
Morgan's lips curled downward as he turned to look at the woman. His gun twirled in his hand as he cocked back the primer, and...
BANG
A shot was fired straight up into the ceiling, its intent to silence the crowd and Val. Clearly, despite his pleasantries, Morgan wasn't about to take any amount of mockery.
"Anyone else wishes to question my presence here?" He asked, as he turned to observe Valentina. His other hand grasped Basilisk tightly, unsheathing him with casual ease.
"Because I am more than glad to display to you all why exactly I am here. Anyone unwilling to watch can wait for me in the teahouse our dearest gentlewoman mentioned."
“PHEWWWWWW!”
The melody of a whistle broke into the air. A clap soon echoed after and it all came back to Valentina.
“Impressive. It seems Mr. Fancy Pants can do more than look good and talk smart.”
With a shrug, she seemed more unfaced by the act of forced control exerted upon the crowd of stunned fans. Her expression speaks more to one thing than rather than speaking it out. Is that all you got?
“Hope all that action ain’t all for nothing? At least do help help a lady work up a bit of a sweat before a few loose teeth go flying.”
Still throwing her light-jabbed words out, the fighter still remained in her casual stance, nothing yet to cause for alarm to get serious, waiting upon the call to start.
Morgan didn't expect Valentina, in all her prior bravado, to be affected much. Which was fine in his book - the crowd's mutterings were silent, and that was what mattered. When it came to her, he would soon get the chance to shut her up in the fields of battle.
"Concern yourself not with such matters, ma'am. You'll soon get a first-hand demonstration. Will you be able to measure up, we wonder?"
He said, clearly intending to somewhat provoke the woman. He hadn't decided to put his face on the line for nothing, after all, and he hoped he could get some fun out of it. Judging from Basilisk's small movements in his hand - small, barely noticeable vibrations whom he had learned to feel and interpret over years of friendship with the sword - he also had high expectations for the fight.
“Whatever you say fancy pants.”
Throwing back a backhanded comment, Valentina simply just rolled her eyes before entering a stance.
Watching Morgan, her eyes seemed to shift between two spots. One fixed momentarily to the gun they held. Shifting it, she saw the sword unsheathed—a blade and bullet—close and far. A tool of trade that would be restricting, but both didn’t matter in her eye.
They waited till the bell was rung. A few moments later, the purple-clothed fighter dashed off from her spot. Running in she took a casual strike of an approach. Full head-on clash. Her fist raised in a manner oh so casual. Ready to deliver a straight punch to the gut.
Morgan stood his ground as the woman dashed forward. A head-on assault would've been needless - she was doing all the work herself.
As the punch went to connect, Morgan moved his arm to position Basilisk in the way. But instead of blocking...
The blade shifted, returning to the form of a snake. It moved to wrap around Valentina's arm to restrain it - and if successful, would proceed to bite her arm. Morgan tightly held his friend by the end of his tail, ensuring that if need be, he could pull him back
If Basilisk succeeded in biting Valentina, aside from the obviously sharp pain such an action would cause, it would soon cause another factor to come into play: the Monocled Cobra's venom, slowly entering her system.
“What the hell!”
Cursing out loud, her former confidence and calmness, shifted to shock and wide eyeness. The sword… turned into a snake. It was something alien and strange. Something she had never seen before and never heard. Hell, if she were ever told such a thing, she’d laugh in the face of the crazy mook who told her that. But to see was to believe, and what she saw was certainly reality.
In the brief moment of contemplative shock, it was enough of an opening for the snake's bite to mark flesh.
“AAAAH!”
A sharp yell escaped the cage, leaving Valentina to close her eyes slightly in a wince of pain. Gritting her teeth, her free hand came up to and then down to crush up the head of the snake.
"Everyone, meet Basilisk." Morgan smirked as he introduced his comrade; "My closest ally, and best friend. And the architect of your downfall!"
His eyes narrowed as Valentina wento try and smash the serpent into the ground. Jerking his arm back, the nobleman pulled him back through the tail he was still holding on to. As he did, Basilisk shortened: His midsection turned into a handle once more, and a blade came out of his mouth, exactly as long as the one he had as a sword. Where the pommel was, now a shorter section of the snake's tail remained, long enough to wrap around Morgan's arm twice. The serpent's hybrid form.
Exploiting the opening Val had created by targeting Basilisk, the man shifted forward. He lowered himself very close to the ground, extending one leg and bending the other as to maximize his reach. And as he did, he thrust Basilisk forward, his blade sizzling with green venom as he went to stab her at her side. It was a traditional technique of fencing, though uncommon with a longsowrd: a lunge clearly meant to deliver a swift and precise blow, empowered by Basilisk's venom.
Opening back her eyes, Valentina showed a trickle of annoyance over her face, a her failure to crack down on the serpent.
That annoyance soon faded, as her annoying at her challenger's next move. Eyes opened to the show of transformation and form the weapon's wielder was coming in for another flirtive bite over her body the time of a more sharpened variety. Her breath hitched as her body, synched to move on her command. Her legs came first. One raised upwards for an inch, only turn that inch into slide back. As the blade would come with its thrust, it found itself falling short of meeting its mark as the opponent seemed to slip back from out of reach.
Sliding back from her next taste of poison, the purple hair fight released a sigh. “It seems Mr fancy pants, has quite the bag of tricks. But guess what? so do I.” The ground where she once stood now oozed with an oily substance, and streaked back to where she was now. Raising her leg, her bare feet showed it more evidently. A more viscous substance, seeped out of her skin only to fall onto the ground adding to the small pool that was forming under her. “Been a while since I used this. How about I honor your first strike with a little game.”
Turining her annoyance into enthusiasm she smirked in excitement to ruin her new opponent. Stepping back into a stance, she took in a more serious pose. She ran back in, this time with a much faster stride. The oil under her feet added to her overall movement, turning what would be a slight distance into a shortened trip. Her fist was brought up to take advantage of their closing distance. A more than basic attack, her opponent could openly read and see her cockiness on full display. An uppercut to the chin to hit’em where it hurt. But there came the miss. Instead of an upcut, she scatted, slickly around to meet them at their back like a skater on an ice rink. Her hands quickly outstretched to meet their back. To pull them into her embrace for a playfully sharp power slam to the arena below.
Morgan merely stood, reassuming his base stance and glaring at Valentina as she started to charge. She was fast, but the overall pattern and purpose of her movement was itself predictable - no overly large flourishes or faints meant she was going to go for a full-frontal attack once again.
He drew his gun, preparing to fire a point-blank shot into her knee, but her sudden change of trajectory messed up his aim. A fake-out? How idiotic of him to have been deceived.
Sadly for her, Basilisk wasn't. From his advantageous position on Morgan's arm, he was perfectly capable of seeing where Val was going, and acted of his own volition to meddle her plans.
The serpent, swift as he was, wasted as little time as he could. As Val grabbed Morgan and went for a crushing slam, Basilisk would transform into his serpent form once again. Wrapping around her arm just as the slam was at its peak, he tried to bite her arm again at its most vulnerable. While he could not stop the slam itself, he could drag her along with Morgan, as their arms were now connected, and another bite would not just cause another jolt of pain, but finally make the dose of venom she had been injected earlier count.
As he was slammed into the floor, regardless of whether or not Valentina would kiss the ground with him, Morgan cried out. By the Founder, it hurt. His bones were most definitely not enjoying the experience.
"Bloody Hell..." he uncharacteristically cursed under his breath, the pain breaking his calm and noble demeanor, if only momentarily; "That was a clean hit..."
“Argh!” Receiving another bite for her troubles, another pained groan escaped the lips of the scrappy brawler. Forcefully tethered to the deceptive noble, she found her fate connected to his as she went tumbling into the ground. Unlike the nobleman, it hurt less for her to meet the hardened ground, but in her attempt to gain ground, she found her face and arm trembling.
“Damn you…” Cursing the pain, invading her body, the ring queen scowled in the direction of the troublesome serpent. This was the second time her skin had been pierced. A second time she’d know pain this day. And that was one too many for comfort. She then soon gave a shaky smirk their way. If that was the case, then it seemed she’d act the role of an instructor and teach Basilisk where not to bite.
From the point where they marked and pumped their venom, another was pumped back into their jaws. Flowing from her wounds, pooled out a substance of inky black. A toxic pollutant surprise. One to match the stabbing pain, the serpent left in her. She left it to pore out of her wounds whilst her unwanted guest stayed clung to her. Turning away from that, she centered her sights back upon Morgan. “Not done yet, fancy pants.”Using their closened proximity to one another she jolted.
Her movements, held a furious motion to it as she approached. Though if one looked closer, she seemed slightly sluggish but mattered little as she was already upon him. Her fists raised to come down upon them like a mighty hammer meant to strike down upon metal. A flashing jab was thrown. It cut through the air to meet out with their ribs, with the intent to brighten up the silent atmosphere more with the discourteous screams of agony.
Basilisk felt the sharp pain of beiby force-fed whatever kind of horrible substance Valentina had decided would work on him. Being a serpent, he did have some level of resistance to toxins, but pollutants didn't fall under the type of things his fruit let him resist. The only sensible answer was to let go and limit damage, so he did - aided by Morgan yanking him back to his hand to make sure he got as little of that accursed thing into his system as possible.
As for the man himself, it didn't take long for him to figure out what Valentina had just tried to do. Fair to say, he was less than pleased. So, as she charged at him - slowed down ever so slightly by Basilisk's venom - he took decisive action.
Basikisk returned to his sword form. Morgan placed it between him and Valentina's fist, as if to parry...
Only for his other hand, the one wielding the revolver, to place itself right next to her torso. And in a flash-
BANG!
-Morgan pulled the trigger, unloading a powerful revolver shot point blank into Valentina's body. And if her punch did go through, Basilisk was still held in a defensive position, meaning the damage would still be, at least, somewhat reduced.
Smirking all the way through, Valentina was sharp ready to go get her next shot off on the tricky bastard. But before she could celebrate early, she’d meet resistance. That damn snake, sword, whatever that damn thing was came back at it again. Parrying her strike, the ringmaster grimaced, but still, she had her chances. She was close enough to him, and that’s what mattered.
Feeling the cold press of metal against her flesh, her expression froze. The gun! Her priorities changed. She needed to move. No, she had to move! With her quick notice and reflexes, she’d still have enough time to escape what parallel came next. All she needed now was to move…But she couldn’t. Her legs. Her legs were shaking. Staring down at it, confusion was all that could be seen at the momentary betrayal of her body from its mind. But all that was needed was a moment for all the dominoes to fall in place.
“.....................”
A loud revolving sound further echoed through the already prior hushed arena alla Morgan. The only sound meant to exist were the opponent, the serpent, and now the newly shot bullet from the gun. Momentarily her fist stopped all traction from its inertia. Pulling it back away from her prey she brought it back to her own body. Pulling it down to her abdomen she felt around. It took a moment to feel, then pulling it back up to her vision there she saw it.
Blood.
Not the blood of her enemy. No, it was her blood. From where Morgan had pressed his gun against, blood came dripping lacing the air with iron. It took a moment of process in her mind, but the recognition and feedback of her senses all came back crashing in on her. “Gr-Gr-Grrrrr!” A suppressed yell muffled. Bitting down upon her own lips, she would not let it escape her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream. "Deceptive-bastard." Pressing her arms against the spot, she applied pressure and bent over as she breathed in air staying on the ground.
Morgan looked down on Valentina. Not our of disdain, but... almost out of pity. He moved his still-smoking gun upward, waving his hand slightly as he spoke.
"Deception is not my style, miss. I made no effort to hide my weapons, did I not?" He uttered, his tone quiet and composed. "And as they say, 'If a gun is shown on stage, expect someone to fire it'."
He took a few steps back, chambering another bullet as he sat down upon the ground. It was his turn to be arrogant.
"Now. I take it you shall yield?"
The click of the hammer being pulled back made it painfully clear what would happen if she did not.
“.................................”
Hearing this, Valentina remained silent. From the last deep breath she took in, her lips no longer opened to receive more. All that was given was a glare. A sharp and malicious glare filled with wrath.
Their request to her hung heavy in the air. Conceded defeat or faced more adversity or agony. It was a request that left her nothing but gave him much.
She turned her gaze down. No words could be said and no one moves were made. It was a truly pitiful end for such a highly anticipated fight. And soon, hands and body were moved.
Taking time standing to her feet, she slowly raised one hand up and kept the other for pressure. It seemed her choice was being made. A possible surrender and an acceptance of fate. But as her answer would come her mouth for the first time came open…and darkness came. Exploding onto the scene as though a smoke bomb was detonated, the gas escaped and flooded out like a tide. Her gift to him. A gift that robbed one of their ability to breathe and sight the longer they stayed in it. One she had built up the moment she took her deep breath in, submerging the field in elusiveness.
“Fat....chance.” With little strength that remained and oil on her feet, she moved out of the direct line of fire and went for a punch. In the end, the battle was already decided. The odds were stacked against her this time around. There was no way for victory, but even then so what? She was a fighter. She had always been a fighter. Even if she couldn’t pull a full victory she’d keep fighting. To go out in battle was better than going out a coward. In the end, she’d go out with a bang. Her arm muscles were weak, hands shaking, eyes blurring, and blood pouring. She’d throw what could be her last feeble punch set upon her opponent's face.
Morgan sighed as Valentina made her point clear. He could respect her dedication.
As the smoke gathered around him, the nobleman placed his gun-wielding hand over his mouth and closed his eyes. His ears would have to pick up the slack, as he focused on the sound of Valentina's oil-soaked feet gliding towards her. Tired as she was, the woman was utterly predictable.
And as soon as he heard her close enough to enter his range... in a flash, he stood up. His hand seemed to go for a cleaving slash aimed at her neck - a deadly strike that would relieve her head off her shoulders. Even in the smoke, the glimmer of Basilisk's blade was visible...
Which made its disappearance all the more surprising, as an empty hand moved to block Valentina's feeble fist with a wrist grab. The serpent was wrapped around his friend's hand, harmlessly watching.
"Enough." Morgan uttered, struggling to keep his eyes open. But open them he did. To deliver his point without watching Valentina in the eye would be utter disrespect of the highest order.
"You fought well. Take pride in that. But there is nothing else you can do." He said between coughs; "We triumphed over you today. Try and make sure you can triumph again tomorrow. For our sake... and yours."
“Shit…” Growling out her disdain, the woman gave a great exhale. Her body was out of it. From the snake's poison pumping through her system, excessive movement pumping it further through her, and the final catalyst being the unwanted bullet that pieced through her. She was spent like no other had been before. Her expression was haggard and disheveled. Sweat and blood, culminate together along the toxic air. She bore her gaze towards Morgan. A defiant gaze of one who couldn’t be tamed. It seemed as though she was still rearing even if it meant her downfall…but she had nothing left.
Her body gave way to weariness. Her balance was taken from her as she seemed to as it gave out contrast to their owners wishes. “.....D…amn…I…t.” That was the last note she spoke before her mind caved under the weight of exhaustion. Her eyes closed and her body fell forward towards Morgan’s body. The queen of the ring had fallen on this day.