12/1 A Dishonor Duel

Maertock Reave says, "Duniya, a pleasure. Let's chat in the temple."
Duniya Vartuul says, "...Fine."
 Maertock Reave says, "Truly gracious."
Maertock would walk into the lair of the black dragon without fear or falter, the Captain of the Deep Company nothing if not an ambitious pirate at the end of the day. His older brother had been fearless in battle even in the face of superior foes, and the shadow shark sought to follow in his footsteps in every means that he would achieve true immortality.

What is dead can never die.

Glancing at the pool of lava, a tentacle of shadowy, inky mana would stretch forth lazily from the reaver lord of the south coast's cloak, lighting a cigar upon the molten heat before taking a contented drag with a nod.

"Nice place ya got here. Real roomy, feel that ambience of dread perfectly. Came to talk business, but I reckon that takes some questions."

The Captain would nod firmly at that.

"How's things been up here? With folk dyin' an' all."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Duniya lead Maertock into the temple as he requested, tough apprehensive she may be. After all, at the end of the day, the man was a brigand. There was no honor among thieves - and she knew that very well. The lawless land of Theria was always an example of such. Family murdering family all for power and wealth.

She turned at the edge of the fire pit to face the captain of the Deep Company with her piercing magenta gaze.

He wanted to talk business, and he started by asking a question. Inquiring into the well-being of the Fireblooded Temple and its people. She responded bluntly,

"About as well as you would expect. The weakest have already fled due to my position. We're only stronger for it."

With a certain air of skepticism, she asked,

"What kind of business could you possibly have here, Reave?"
(Duniya Vartuul)
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 Maertock would cross his massive, sinewed arms over the arcanic plating that adorned his titanic frame, the Captain of the Deep Company snorting in amusement as he took a drag from his cigar while minty smoke rose contentedly from his dry, reddened gills. There was a sense of understanding at least; Duniya knew what Maertock was about, two untamed beasts upon the same archipelago.

"Yeah, I did get word ya started feedin' folk who got uppity to your dragon. I do like the idea, might steal it from ya I ain't gonna lie. It's got a certain....chaotic energy to it, ya know? You plan to hunt down the turncoats an' weaklings too?"

The Captain of the Deep Company would tap his chin softly at that, clearly still in contemplation as to why he was truly here. Perhaps chatter was an important part of it in the end.

"S'pose the business I bargain depends on the wants and needs of those desirin'. In this case, I reckon it's more a matter of takin' stock."

The reaver lord would firmly bob his head.

"What're ya plans now that you've started feeding dissenters to the dragon? What's your grandiose goal at the end of the rabbit hole?"
(Maertock Reave)
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 Moa's fingers were covered in blood, stained with them in fact, a tiny amount had bled onto the back, onto the front and a minor amount stained the front of her robes. A breastplate that radiated heat and warmth beneath with glyphs of vitality that gleamed. Moa had gone looking for Duniya when she was not in her usual place.

Moa had gone looking and this had been the right place to go evidently and so the small drakenite came on in silently through the door, hearing every little word of what was just said between the two of them. For the first time ever, those serpentine eyes looking colder with the blood staining her frame from what Duniya had seen her carrying perhaps a mere half hour or so ago at most.

Serpentine eyes looked upon the massive inhuman and strange exotic creature that the inland drakenite had never seen in her entire life. Who's name was apparently Reave, who was talking to Duniya as if they were an equal. The sense of fear and anxiety is strong entering into a conversation she feels she doesn't exactly...that maybe she isen't supposed to be here, but then again.

She was fireblood, she had ran across that lava and she had stayed despite everything, where others had fled, fully grown women with far more magical power then her, perhaps to some extent strength of character might be more valuable, as her modestly pitched voice came out in an interested tone, a bold one.

"Duniya, I handled the boy...may."

Serpentine eyes fill with a curiosity.

"May I listen, this...sounds interesting and I don't think I've met Reave here."
(Moa-Moa-Moa)
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Duniya listened to Maertock, first and foremost. He was bold enough to ask for an audience, and even better, he was speaking praises to her manner of leadership. Sometimes brutality was the only way to get through to people. A nurturing, motherly hand only gets so far. Weakness needed to be culled. Complacency needed to be dismantled and replaced.

"Chaotic, maybe. A means to an end. No matter how much power one woman has, she cannot take the world on without capable people beneath her. Hopefully my Fireblooded are wise enough to choose power over death. To any rational person, it is a very easy choice."

Though she seriously doubted Maertock to be an honest and upfront man, his curiosity and interest - more importantly, his respect, was something the leaders of Achyon and Osrona sorely lacked. So, it was met with courtesy from the Den Mother. Courtesy in the form of answering his question honestly.

"My plans?"

Balmung was drawn from her back, its edge lightly resting upon the blood-red carpet beneath her.

"I will put this sword through Luca Docro's throat as he watches his nephews choke on blackness, and his city burn.

Then I will use it to pierce Amori's heart."

After saying that, she kept her fist white-knuckled around the handle of the Dragonslayer.

"After that, I will continue to conquer and kill for my people whenever they need me to. Until the day someone worthy finally sends me to my love in Vanaheim."
(Duniya Vartuul)
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 Duniya also nods to Moa.
(Duniya Vartuul)
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 Moa-Moa-Moa respectfully nods back.
(Moa-Moa-Moa)
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 Maertock would cackle as he heard of Duniya's plans, nodding in frank appreciation at the fellow shadowmancer's understanding of the necessity of brutality. She was a true dragon, there was no doubt about it. That bloodlust and determination was there, it was starting to make sense in truth.

"You're not wrong. The strongest sonova bitch oft dies cause nobody was there to watch his back. See, I treat my crew like family. I give the majority of our wealth an' plunder to them an' those that need it. A leader requires those willin'ta live an' die for the same ideal they pursue if they are to stand tall amongst their peers."

The captain would nod firmly at that, drifting his clawed hand into the depths of the inky darkness that made up his being before withdrawing a bottle of rum. He'd begin to drink it profusely as one does.

"Got some kinda ferocity to you, don't ya? Real determined to kill themsons'a bitches. I reckon it makes sense enough considerin' what they done took from ya. I reckon if there's anythin' as greedy an' angry when someone takes somethin' shiny from a pirate, it's a dragon. Least, tha's the runmor."

Maertock would whistle a siren, jolly tune as he hummed deeply and musically, coldy, icy eyes appearing to take progressive stock of Duniya.

"So what's so special about them swords of yours that Luca's so crazy to get'm? I'm a fencer myself, but frankly my blade's a piece of shit compared to that thing."

The ancient, dread cutlass of Captain Saltspite, made of mithril and dulled by centuries. A dread piece of shit as it presently stood.


(Maertock Reave)
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Maertock Reave says, "An' of course, those that betray me die horrible deaths. Tha's a given."


 "...You both sound like storybook character's, like mother used to talk about."

It's interesting in how she says this, with a clear intensity, as her eyes hang onto the words between them, between the two of them, as they speak of vengeance and the desire for community and the desire for strength, a determination for a goal.

A determination that Moa shared, because Duniya had given it to her and it was a lot easier to understand everything that was said here then elsewhere, where her dull mind would chug, because what's being said, is like a storybook.

Is like a tale, a tale weaved out and said in a temple. Reave was growing interesting in all honesty beyond his initial appearance, a roughness to him compared to the far more refined feeling of Duniya. She moves to take a seat against the wall, next to a statue, but not hurting it or leaning againt it.

Serpentine yellow eyes, watch and flicker between the two.
(Moa-Moa-Moa)
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Duniya had no reason not to be upfront with her intentions for the world's leaders. They knew them already, the entire world did. To proclaim them out loud only showed her resolve in her intent. Balmung was raised a bit, so that Maertock could easily see the engravings upon the blade's crimson surface.

Along the edge there is a depiction of the history of the weapon. It ranges from the black dragon Myderrag slain with an Astor knight standing above, to the war between men and dragonkind in-between. At the end there's three drakanites and their offerings, backed by their clansmen, two men and a woman, Orodyn, Varceal, and Duniya.

Reforged by Garljing itself, it was a blade with no compare in the entirety of Esshar, perhaps it even rivals the ancient weapons of legend all across the world.

"...If he was even worthy to wield it, he'd have come up here and tried to take it himself. This weapon is not the one that his mother wielded... it is something only done justice in the hands of a dragon. My guess is he doesn't have enough flame in him to even touch the handle.

Coward."

She put it back in it's place upon her back, right beside the massive greatsword that was constantly bursting with golden flame - the Rising Wyrm's Revolution. Two incredibly powerful swords, held by but one small woman.

"They believe themselves immune to a dragon's wrath. The hubris of humanity never ceases to amaze me. One day, all men below this mountain will find themselves humbled. Those who refuse to join me will be filled with sorrow and regret.

Those who oppose me will die.

It is only a matter of time."

Her ethereal, burning pink eyes were trained on the pirate captain.

"All under the sky is subject to a dragon's whims, you know. That includes the ocean."
(Duniya Vartuul)
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 Maertock would pace forward steadily as the seven foot master of shadows cackled with amusement. The Captain of the Deep Company appeared to find the wrath of the dragon entertaining indeed, a dangerous force of nature that would terrify most into submission.

He only stepped closer as he cracked his back, neck, and shoulders.

His cold, icy eyes fell upon that blade which was born again by a god's flame. It's craftsmanship emanated power and sheer heat. It immensity had a presence of its own nothing less than out of legend. His teeth would flash with a serrated grin that spread ear to ear.

"That would make sense of things, wouldn't it? The sword chooses the wielder, not the other way around kinda deal huh? Real story like, can't deny it. Makes sense, he's got it in his mind that he's earned it rightfully by blood. The other kind, not the stabby kind. The inside, pedigree sort."

Another drag from his cigar as he considered all that he had heard.

"So a dragon destroys all that stands against'm? Leaves the world in flames? Well Duniya, I dream of sinkin' it all, so I understand the appetite for destruction. If folks won't get with ya, they get got. A reasonable principle."

The captain would nod firmly at that. It wasn't sarcastic, it was good policy. At her last comment though, his smile would widen.

"The ocean belongs to no one but him unspoken. That is why it's free Duniya, that's why we reave. But you know."

The captain would bob his head firmly.

"I think I've made up my mind."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Duniya stared at Maertock unblinking as he spoke. It wasn't a glare, necessarily, more a gaze of apathy and complete neutrality. There could possibly be said that she didn't hold the pirate in very high regard, but then that did not have to mean that she did not respect his stature.

It was more of a piety thing, to her. To put a man that came from the sea in any level of height in her eyes would be a disrespect to her own heritage.

His statement that he had 'made up his mind' prompted a curious quirk of her brow, and she spoke to that effect.

"About?"

Her head canted to the side, ashen locks bobbing about with that movement.
(Duniya Vartuul)
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Maertock would audibly click clack his rows of serrated teeth until he was right up in front of the dragon two feet shorter than the shadow shark, yet whom projected like a giant. He could respect an ego to match his own; the question remained if she was as fierce as her words.

The raking sound of mithril would follow as the mithril cutlass of Saltspite was pointed at Duniya's bosom, the pirate flashing a jagged grin to the matriarch as he hummed a siren song like the demon of crossroads he was. Shadows began to slowly eek out from his form, drifting fog amongst the floor beneath the bogeyshark.

"Ya see, I didn' come here under honorable pretentions. I ain' wha' one would call an honorable man! No, I'm a pirate; we drink, fuck, and reave. That is the way of the high seas. And that is the way of the deep."

The captain's blade would be swallowed by inky that trailed up its length, a midnight silohoette against the burning pools of lava.

"Luca Docro offered me good money to come after ya, and I need tha' sonova bitch's technology to get it done. Now, I'm a shark of my word, and I ain't fear nothin' this world or the next's got'a offer."

The black blade was flourished with surprising poise and agility befitting the brutal shark's graceful fencing style. The power of destruction with the absolute control and precision of a surgeon. A predator through and through.

"I came here to fight ya. Try an' rob ya frankly. At least, I did. I made up my mind though, as I said. I ain't gonna deny, I can see why he's scared as shit of ya. Frankly, I respect someone that can permeate fear and terror, for they are the wine and cheese of my piratical tyranny."

The captain would nod firmly.

"I'm challenging you to a dishonor duel. I'm gonna come at ya, an' I'm gonna try'ta sink you. No holds barred, no holdin' back. If I win, I get all the coin in your pockets, and the second finest weapon. I'm a simple, greedy man."

The captain would bob his head firmly.

"And if you win? Instead of comin' after you, I'll target those deserters of yours instead, fulfills my end of the deal regardless.. If you're as strong as your words, I won't stand against ya. No, I'll help ya mess with'm from the inside."
(Maertock Reave)
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 There are a lot of things to say, a lot of things to say as a blade is pointed towards Duniya, as these things are said in the temple, as a mentor is threatened just like that. As a mentor is threatened, her feet push her up to stand fully.

Proud and nearly as tall as Duniya, scales gleaming with fire inside them, cold serpentine eyes stare at the scene, the flicker of a recognition. She couldn't interfere right? Rules and memory's of what she's heard flow through and....she realizes it. Her frame lightly relaxes, her mouth tightens up and she doesn't deign to speak.

Rather, she lets those serpentine eyes, look at Duniya's own and give off one impression.

That Moa-Moa-Moa had every belief that Duniya if a fight went down, would win, that she believed in her.
(Moa-Moa-Moa)
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 Duniya's eyes gleamed with intrigue as Maertock finally unveiled a semblance of genuineness. He told her the truth of his intent, and she was completely and utterly unsurprised. Someone who paid their way to try and get what they wanted would inevitably enlist the services of such a man.

The Don was afraid. She knew that to be the case after he repeated the same folly twice in a row. Though he did his damage in the place of morale in the temple, Duniya seemed wholly unaffected by all of the methods that he had employed thus far.

As she was challenged, though, she seemed a bit surprised. He offered proper terms, and even did so with a modicum of respect. In her mind, she was just offered the easiest enlistment of aid in the entire world. All she had to do was defeat the Pirate Captain.

A woman who had not met defeat in years, she nodded her head up and down slowly.

"Very well then. Your terms are agreeable. In return for your respect and propriety, I'll accept your challenge."

If he had not been so respectful, what would she have done?

Perhaps it was best for one never to find out.

"We will settle this matter at the dragon's gauntlet, as is tradition."

At that, she'd look to him expectantly.

"Shall we?"
(Duniya Vartuul)
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 "We shall."

Maertock's shadows drifted from the Fireblooded Temple to the lava encased arena of the dragon's gauntlet, the Captain of the Deep Company appearing from the snow as the inky darkness that made up his being warped upon snow. The captain cut an intimidating figure at seven feet of shark sinew, dark silks, and ashen arcanium plate.

But that serrated smile is what sold the whole package.

Flourishing Saltspite's cutlass as it was once more imbibed in ink that trailed up to its tip, the reaver lord of the south coast would point the tip of the weapon towards Duniya with a cackle. He knew exactly how strong she was. One of the greatest powers in the land.

It only excited Maertock more. His shadows flowed with determination and battlelust.

"Let's find out what you're made of. Illusions and smoke, or fire and stone."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Perhaps one would have expected her to expose her wings, and fight him in her true, draconic form. But no... something more sinister came from her as she pulled Balmung from its place at her back. She said to him,

"I carry into battle with me the desires of the dead and damned."

She pointed her weapon at him, as a black flame enshrouded her, the whispers of the occult gripping the air around her body. Somehow... she seemed even more powerful like this. Handing her heart over to the darkness in such a way.

...But it was different from the typical occultist...

Something shined in her eyes that they all lacked.

Raw determination.

That was what kept her sane. What kept her truly powerful.

"This battle is dedicated to your brother... and his ceaseless ambition for wealth and glory. I will show you what power he holds, even in death. A man truly immortal."

Without warning, the Black Wyrm began her charge, flames following her every step.
(Duniya Vartuul)
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 Maertock was true to his word as the shadow shark and the black drake danced across the snow and cinder of ash. The Captain of the Deep Company was fearless, and despite his shadowy nature of acting from the background, it was obvious from their clash of shadowed mithril to flame that the raw, brute strength of Maertock was far above his brother's own.

Where as he had been focused upon an infinite bulwark of regenerating sinew, Maertock represented the DESTRUCTION of occult. His progress was ruthless, his determination unshaken, and as resounding, thunderous clashes of metallic cacophony emanated throughout the mountain Tarian, the reaver lord of the south coast found he was having the time of his life.

In the end, a wave of brutal, kinetic flame disrupted the sharkman's tempo with blinding heat, a crushing blow knocking him temporarily to his knee as he planted his sword in the snow to catch his breathe.

"Now that's heat. That's FIRE.SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT DUN."
(Maertock Reave)
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 Duniya's darkness and the shadows of Maertock intermingled atop the snow. Their blades clashed relentlessly against one another as she showed him her true power without a second thought. In the Dragon's Gauntlet, holding back was a grave slight against the Red God.

Though she'd not embraced her true form here, this was still a proper display of her full power... just a different avenue of it.

"Powerful swordplay... would you believe me if I said I was an amateur?"

She smiled at him sheepishly as she held her blade against his, and they stood at each other's front. The struggle was ended with a bout of intense flame. They were set apart from one another, and her blade was still held in that interesting stance of hers.

"Very well. Be on your best."
(Duniya Vartuul)
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{Lost Dangerous RPB against Duniya Vartuul}

 Maertock's shadow dance with the black dragon continued on with theatric crescendo, snow melting into flame, smoke, and black fog as the two swordsmen clashed might with brilliant strikes and sparks of force. It was clear why the woman's confidence and determined ego was so absolute; she was a dragon in form and words alike.

Yet one misstep is all it took for the Reave to lose his momentum. Three brutal rallies of burning flame ushered forth in crisping waves over his skin, the moisture drying from his sirenian body as he felt his form withering under the immensity of the pressure Duniya manifested.

Raising his hand before his eyes to stop himself from being blinded by the sheer brilliance of the dragon's flame, the sliding propulsion of flame forth wasn't seen until the legendary blade went right through his stomach.

Coughing up a load of blood, the shark man would stumble, nearly losing his footing as black blood began to profusely drip down at the shark's feet. Before stepping forward as he proceeded to impale himself further upon the blade, cackling as he choked slightly upon his blood while lowering his gaze to Duniya's own, brought to his knee as the shorter woman now stood tall above him.

The curse in his veins that surged through the blade might have scarred a lesser man. But to the shark, it was like a common cold. The screams deafened the choir of the Deep, he WOULD sink the world he thought. No one would stop him.

"My second dance with a noblewoman, the first-"

A spatter of blood would be coughed up from the shark as he laughed at his own pain in a sense of berserker's mania.

"-was at the ball your husband died. If you'd been there this strong, I reckon no one could have stood a chance agains' ya. The battle is yours Matriarch, I have lost. You give me a list of names, I'll have my boys go after them."
(Maertock Reave)
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[02:00] Duniya battled with Maertock at her full capability, a respect that she didn't offer many people. Of course, this could have simply been because they stood on such hallowed ground. But either way, the battle was fierce, and Maertock did not dishonor himself against her.

The fact that he could even keep up enough to survive was impressive in itself, to her. Though all men that stood in front of the Dragonlord would fall. Her ashen locks swayed with the wind as a jet of flame sent her hurtling into him, Balmung pointed forth.

Her crimson blade slid into his gut, and erupted with golden flame. She held no fury for him, but he had given her something to want. Placed something in front of him that she'd need to do this to seize. So, as it entered his abdomen, she stared at him.

A corrupt energy, yet wholly blessed with divine power took hold inside of Maertock, beckoning him to seize his ambition. He'd hear the call of the Red God himself, demanding that the Reave sink the entire world into the abyss.

The weapon was held in the wound it created as she spoke back to him.

"Spill the blood of the drakanites Achlys, Ren, and Issac, if you can."

Balmung finally drew free from Maertock's midsection, and his blood would spatter upon the snow, tainting it with the vile color of his siren blood. Luckily, it missed the most vital spots.

"Bring me Vesper in chains."

That next demand came with a bit of venom.

"...You fought well, Reave." She said, wiping a bit of her own blood off of her cheek. A slight scratch from a narrowly evaded swipe of his scimitar. Her next statement came with a smile, almost motherly. Though the glare of the magenta in her eyes undeniably suggested it a genuine warning.

"Pray we never dance again. My black-scaled son gets jealous..."
(Duniya Vartuul)
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Maertock would cackle as blood spattered upon his china, the shark berserker's eyes black and dilated as he licked both Duniya's crimson ichor and his own black blood off his cheek. Shutting his eyes with bliss at the sensation of iron and life ichor upon his tongue.

"Achlys, Ren, and Issac. A simple-"

Maertock vomited blood all over the snow.

"...task. Vesper would probably actually show up in chains himself if you asked to be frank."

A bob of his head as the blade was withdrawn from his form, black ink leaking from the massive wound that had luckily enough only pierced his stomach. Though he was flooded with blood, tendrils of shadow within his body had already begun knitting up the wound in field triage upon his command as a surgeon.

Slowly, the Captain of the Deep Company would rise to his full height as he fixed his hat, drifting his clawed digits into the shadows that made up his being before a bottle of clear alcohol was withdrawn. With a sudden splash, he'd grit his rows of serrated teeth as a couple came loose from the pain before he'd take a swig from the likely pure ethanol without fear.

Belching black fire.

"You honor me, you are the superior warrior this day. My fencing has always been my strongpoint, though my mastery of shadows allows me to drift through the battlefield as if it was the ocean's depths."

Though his mastery of shadows did not extend to the dark arts. He was a journeyman necromancer, but his abilities paled in comparison to his mentors.

The kraken hunt would clear his mind.

Dusting himself off, a cigar was lit after it was clear he'd not light on fire from the ethanol before he nodded once more to Duniya.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, I'm a sadomasochist and alcoholic. That basically makes me simultaneously invulnerable and invincible. That said, I don't reckon I'll need to. You're sturdy stuff, and good people. Strength to back up your words, and that I can respect."
(Maertock Reave)
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 As everything calmed down and the gauntlet had stopped being a haze of magic and energy and indeed the magic within it had fanned out, it was finally actually safe for Moa-Moa-Moa to approach, her feet taking her past small ruptured craters, indents where swords had clashed and over stone and rubble that had been upturned. Her worn feet pitter-pattered over the ground, as she took a stance just a few feet away.

A few feet away.

"That, was uh..."

The excitement and the thrill, the anxiety and the fear, the person who radiated ambition and determination. Had radiated a strength that was horrifying and something that made her blood pump and pump and pump throughout her body. Her eyes dilated and sweat glistening down her brow, she manages to continue to speak.

"Amazing."

Fingers going through long locks, a lightly blood-stained youth watching the two battered individuals with weary and excited eyes, with a small hand gently ruffling through her clothes, into a pouch to pull something forth, a small jar full of the slightest amount of power.

And it's gently placed down near them boiling and bubbling, a gift clearly enough.
(Moa-Moa-Moa)
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 The battle ended, and their terms were honored.

"Glad to see that we have met eye to eye, then."

She stepped forth and held out to Maertock a jar of Lax Essence. Whether he'd accept it or not, it'd be left there for him.

"Your men are still welcome in the north. So long as they remember who is its queen."

At that, however, she looked toward Moa, who was watching the entire time. She leaned over and lifted the potion up, inspecting it curiously. She smiled to the young one, and decided to pocket the thing for herself. It would likely come in handy one day.

"Ah... it was not amazing, child. This is just Monday for me."

She looked over to Maertock, and a faint chuckle came from her lips.

"I'm sure it is for him, too. Though, I'm sure he's used to being the victor."
(Duniya Vartuul)
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 Maertock would crack his back, neck, and shoulders as a bit more black blood splattered forth upon the ground. Clutching his quite literaly impalement wound with his webbed palm, he'd bark out in laughter as he began to pace away as if it really had just been another Tuesday.

For Murtock, it had been.

"Easiest way to understand someone is to have a brutal blood match with'm. Sides, this ain't the first time I've been impaled in Esshar. Your sword, however, is far sharper than Jianyu's was. I salute you in that regard."

The captain would wipe the blood from his nose as he smiled serenely, adrenaline and dopamine flowing through his brain as he truly took a deep breathe of the fresh, mountain air.

This was the kind of vacation he liked.

"Good talk. We'll speak again in time, but we have our understanding now. You are a true dragon Duniya, I will strive to become a leviathan to match your might."
(Maertock Reave)