[Episode] Corruption of Blood

[plyr=revo]"Get out."[/plyr]

Quest Information:

A sliver of morning light broke in, filtered red through the thin edges of embroidered curtains. Acacia's eyelids argued with the punctual rays. They insisted on remaining shut just five more minutes, and another five, and another, but, the sun's argument was unyielding.

Acacia rolled out of the cushy mattress with a hoarse groan. A dark fleece blanket slid off his bare skin lazily. It clung to his thin waist until a shake of the hips sent it to the carpeted floor.

He pressed a finger to his forehead to magic-wand away a throbbing hangover. When that trick failed, he drowned the headache with a deep swig from a demijohn of Ilisian Red.  The warm and sweet liquid washed down the buildup of nightly cough and lit a furnace in his belly. There were few better cures for the symptoms of too much booze than one more bottle of booze.

He tossed the drained vessel into the indent he had left in the bed. It did not stir the other undressed body resting on it. Thick blonde hair veiled the woman's pale, tattooed back. The same tattoos—coiling green serpents and purple chains—spread like an infection along her thin arms, over her wide hips, and down to the back of her knees.

The blonde had a blanket matching Acacia's pincered between her legs with one end clutched within a loose fist. The spiky-haired drunk's crimson gaze traced the young woman's curvaceous outline.

He could not recall the touch of her flawless skin nor the sound of her moans - were they soothing or grating? The previous night was a half-solved mystery like most nights before it.

He lifted a crusty sheet of paper off the dresser and strained to identify a barely familiar face printed on it. "'Black Seed' Acacia, wanted for treason, mass murder, destruction of government property..." and a plethora of other charges he could not be bothered to read. The hundred-and-ten million berry bounty placed upon him was rather generous for his first, he thought.

Crumbling the poster into a wrinkled ball, he peeked through the curtains to hurl it out of the window. Filth of a hundred kinds and one littered the narrow streets below; what was one piece more?

Uncountable pillars of black smoke stemmed from buildings tall and short. In a distant alley, Acacia could see three shaded figures punching and kicking a smaller one. In another, he could see a congregation of hooded vagrants, with one proselytizing on a crate.

The city of Durban was dilapidated; one could watch it sink into a nightmarish sludge of piracy and corruption by the hour. The shoddy bits of information Acacia had picked up through his inebriated torpor implied the island's king as the culprit behind its depraved state.

As his mind wandered to kings of more familiar islands, his thumb unconsciously caressed the golden band around his ring finger, while his other hand went to fiddle with his locket only to find it missing.

He panicked.

Short breaths and a cold sweat overwhelmed him. His head swung side to side as his unsteady eyes scanned the dim room for an acquainted silver shine.

"Where the hell is it?!"

His alarm snapped the woman awake with a gasp. He stampeded closer, ripped her covers, and jerked her to her feet. The blonde's arms instinctively shielded her unmentionables.

"Where... is... my... locket?!" Acacia specified.

Accusation riddled every word.

The girl lifted a finger. Her amber eyes quivered behind a layer of liquid. She pointed to a padded oaken chair in the corner. His attire from the day before was folded neatly on it. A katana with a lavender grip and scabbard leaned against the same chair. Atop the clothes was a thick chain with a single sterling silver wing hanging at its end.

Acacia sighed and stepped away from the undeserving victim of his outburst.

"Get out."

The woman retrieved her folded apparel off the floor and started to dress.

"Now."

She walked out wearing only a white faux-silk button-up with rolled-up sleeves and a thin pair of maroon panties with floral patterns.

"You're an asshole," she declared, standing in the hallway holding her dark jeans, cavalier hat, and ankle-high boots.

Acacia mumbled to himself, for she did not wait for him to agree.

OOC notes for @Yumiko:

---

Red morning sun swept its rays over the docks, offering some warmth for a large, blue ship. Reminiscent of ants, uniformed soldiers scurried around performing their morning duties. Some were swabbing the deck, few were carrying crates around and the lucky ones got to enjoy breakfast. Among them stood one figure donning rather unusual attire, a large-sleeved kimono from a far-off country. A closer look revealed a young woman with her long, raven hair worn in an odd manner, much like a cape hanging over her back. Arms folded, the vigilant woman stood at guard by the ship’s gangway while her comrades loaded cargo. Her icy stare deterred any suspicious characters from approaching. ...Or maybe it was the long blade hanging from her hip. Either way, the scum of the harbor kept their distance.

Durban Island... If there was a city more wretched, Yumiko hadn’t seen one. A land of rats eating rats in broad daylight. Their ship had barely been docked for a couple of hours and she had already witnessed three robberies, two murders and one... awful, shameful, outright indecent act in the shadows of the shipping containers. It was even worse than the tales told of the ancient lawless areas in Wano Country. Most infuriatingly, she had been explicitly forbidden from interfering. The commander had told her they were on an important mission and could not act carelessly. It was not her place to question her orders, but... Upon spotting motion down a shady alley, she squinted with scathing disapproval before averting her gaze. Two indecent acts. This was unbearable.

Eventually the ship’s captain, Hoggish by name, deigned to show himself. A man built like a barrel with arms and legs squeezed through the cabin door. While his figure was round and stout, sturdy muscles bulged through his sleeves. A bald head shined in the sun. His tiny, beady eyes were accompanied by a huge, toothy grin. Cracker crumbs clung to his bushy, black beard. ...Which was definitely not trimmed to meet the Marine dress code. However, pointing that out was considered insubordination. The captain always insisted the Marine code with its various sections was more of a guideline. His word, on the other hand, was the law.

And once again he was ready to lay down some law...

Quickly barked commands brought all soldiers to a tidy formation. The deck creaked as Hoggish slowly paced back and forth. “Men! And Yumiko...” He passed a sideways glance at the odd one out. “As you know, we are here to complete an important escort mission or something like that. It’s imperative that we handle this with unfaltering subtlety, precision and other such words. I expect each and everyone of you to take your assigned duty seriously or whatever.” He stopped to again give a pointed stare at the swordswoman. “And Yumiko... Do not draw your blade or transform unless it is to protect the envoy or something like that.” The order was met with a swift nod. “As is thy will, sir.” Another order she did not agree with, but... She would follow it nonetheless. Follow it to the letter.

Satisfied with the response, the captain nodded back. He knew that for all her annoying quirks, she at least knew his orders were absolute. “Good. Now go prepare or whatever. We have a tight schedule to follow or some such. Dismissed and so forth.” With that all the uniformed ants got back to scurrying. ...All except Yumiko. She still stood stiffly in attention, drawing an odd look from the burly superior. “Sir, permission to speak freely?” She received a flat stare that just silently screamed all the variations of nope. “...Denied. Back to work, soldier, or something.” He had not gotten enough coffee to deal with one of her rants this early in the morning. In response, she saluted. “Sir, yes sir!” She locked away the thoughts behind the motion. No, it was not her place to question...

[plyr=revo]"Good luck with your resistance, old man."[/plyr]

Acacia wandered along a muddy road in a haze. His only destination was a state of intoxication from which he would never escape. He indulged in a bottle of absinthe gripped in one hand and a smoking blunt pinched in the other.

He coughed and blew a devil-may-care cloud at nothing in particular. The whites of his eyes were near as red as his irises - veiny and revolting. Yet his gait was steady and sober—though just a bit listless—in defiance of his inebriety.

A scream rolled out from behind a ramshackle set of swinging doors. It came from an exotic restaurant with its roof edges curved up and corners accented with rotten redwood. Acacia did not stop.

He heard three gunshots discharged from a hole-in-the-wall pawn shop. A raggedy grey-haired half-corpse riddled with three matching holes in his shirt fumbled out. The fool ate dirt with an absurd and clueless smile. Acacia still did not stop.

His bibulous stroll brought him to a filthy wharf. Moss crawled up the poles and infested the pier's mouldering planks. A docked marine blue ship cast a giant shadow over and around him, consuming all other shadows.

The sky behind the ship's mast was yellow like a bruise on the mend. A hopeful philosopher might have seen it as a sign of better times to come. Acacia was neither hopeful nor a philosopher.

His two companions—Mr. Hooch and Ms. Mary Jane—had forsaken him by then. He approached a dock-side teriyaki stall - cannabis tends to stimulate one's appetite. Teriyaki for breakfast was an adventure of its own.

The stall owner assessed Acacia critically. He wore a stained wife-beater and loose trousers. His dark moustache endeavoured to mask the hive-like blemishes on his cheeks and jaws.

Acacia's outfit seemed almost touristy in comparison. A white crew-neck shirt with the words "You can't drink all day unless you start in the morning" in a lazy font, khaki cargo shorts and sandals, and his one-and-only black hoodie—fully unzipped—festooned with prints of white wings. His precious wing-shaped locket hung bravely off a chain around his neck.

"Come, come. How many sticks do ya want, feller?" Asked the moustached man with unexpected energy. Acacia glanced at the pile of half-cooked chicken cuts and the bowls of brown sauces resting next to a low flame.

"Four."

"That'll be hundred-twenty berries." The cook raised the flame and stabbed a faux-wooden skewer into the heap of chicken, expertly piercing it through six or seven pieces. He repeated this three more times and laid the skewers on the grill before generously pouring sauce on them.

While his hands worked, his tongue worked harder.

"These useless fuckin' marines, I tell ya. They come and go every other week and don't do diddly squat." He flipped the skewers on the grill one by one.

"They don't give two shits what happens to this country so long as they get their two berries."

Acacia looked over at the marine ship behind him. An officer barked illegible orders to his drones.

"They might as well be goddamned mercenaries. Our good King Eric feeds silver to their pockets, and they feed our city to the wolves."

Acacia exchanged a few small bills for his first skewer and included payment in advance for the rest.

"Looks like they're about to parade through town. Special occasion?" Acacia asked with scant traces of interest. He bit into the sauced meat. Its hot and tender strings warmed the insides of his cheeks.

"I heard they're escortin' some bigshot. I ain't got any details." The teriyaki-man placed the remaining sticks in an old newspaper page and presented it to his red-eyed customer.

"Alls I know is that somethin' big's about to happen at the castle when they execute those poor fools today."

"Execute?" Acacia cocked a brow.

"You ain't heard? They caught a few of them rebels. Eric's gonna execute them at noon." His words were down to whispers.

"There's an underground resistance on the island that's tryin' to free Durban and overthrow the king. They ain't havin' much luck, though."

Acacia shrugged and turned away. "This city seems beyond saving. Good luck with your resistance, old man."

The troop of marines marched off the docks with their escortee and into the city.

A whim to spend his day doing something besides drinking and whoring struck him like a bat to the head. He found himself trailing after the naval escort towards the castle, curious to spectate a Durban-style execution. Is that why the marines are here?

The fact that Acacia himself was a wanted man had slipped his mind entirely.

OOC notes for @Yumiko:

---

Before long Captain Hoggish bellowed again, herding his soldiers into formation. The door of the guest quarters creaked open. A posh and pompous woman strutted out, dressed in elaborate silken robes. Golden jewelry chimed softly with each step. She wore more money than an honest person could earn in a lifetime. Beneath the layers of makeup and perfume was a woman who could’ve been beautiful without all of it. Wind played with the long curls of her blonde hair. Her blue eyes glimmered like gemstones. Clear. Shiny. And oh so very cold. Supposedly she was the daughter of a king from a distant land, a princess by blood. Though the name of the particular kingdom had never come up for some reason...

With the VIP surrounded by soldiers on all sides, the captain led the rectangular formation through the city. The samurai trailed dead last, constantly sweeping the surroundings with her suspicious gaze. Her official orders had been to watch the rear. The fact that this position also kept her out of the captain’s sight was just a coincidence. Or something like that. As the formation slowly marched through the twisted streets, the locals sneered and jeered. Lapdogs, assholes, bastards, each insult of the torrent was slightly fouler than the rest. As if the drunks were competing in who could come up with the most creative combinations. Stonewalling them only seemed to fuel their hate further.

In Yumiko’s opinion, beside all the criminal element running rampant, the worst thing about Durban was the smell. It clung to the air like a spiderweb buzzing with flies. She pinched her nose shut. It didn’t do her much good when she could practically taste the death and decay in the air. Smoke, blood, bodily waste... And alcohol. Running like rivers across the numerous bars. Not any manner of fine sake either, no... It was the kind of cheap swill that got even the most rotten soul drunk at best. And made one blind at worst. In such an environment her sharpened senses were a worse curse than being a hammer. Far too many things slipped her notice under the veil of filth.

After a small eternity of enduring seething hatred, the envoy finally reached the castle. In stark contrast to the cesspool of a city, the mighty stone building stood proud and pristine, like a monument to something. Greed, perhaps. Numerous guards patrolled the perimeter and the walls. Even the gate alone had several hulking figures watching it. Yet the samurai felt uneasy. She had expected the guards of the local Shogun to look more... heroic. Rather than brutes armed to the teeth. She quickly shook the shameful thoughts out of her head. What was she doing, judging these noble souls by their appearances alone? With a deep breath, she regained her resolve. ...And gagged when the stench of the city crept up on her again. Bleagh. Best to breathe through the mouth.

On the other side of the castle gates, a courtyard was decorated much like one might expect. Flower beds filled with colorful species, muscular statues depicting the king, a beautifully decorated fountain... And a large, raised platform with a chopping block at the center. The formation came to stop next to it. With a single command, the first soldiers stepped aside so that the princess could walk past them. Upon seeing her, one of the guards announced the king had been informed of the guest’s arrival and would arrive to meet her shortly. Meanwhile, the swordswoman was preparing to kneel. Hm, nay, prostrate herself completely. Surely the captain would order it when the local Shogun arrived.

[plyr=revo]"What a farce."[/plyr]

A hulking figure and a lanky one wandered through an ostentatious archway. Two rows of nutcracker soldiers escorted a pair of shackled, haunted faces behind them. Tattered white rags barely covered the prisoners' bruised and scarred skin. Intricate tattoos of green serpents and purple chains peeked through the rips in their vestments.

"You know, Garobu, I'll never understand why these morons insist on marking up their bodies. It's like they want us to catch them." A voice high as if on a canister of helium came out of the lumbering man leading the troop. Despite the laughable contradiction between the pitch of his vocals and the dimensions of his frame, none laughed. They knew better.

King Eric was a bag of fat with a dangerous helping of muscle. His long dark hair contrasted his pale skin, and his unruly moustache forked at the ends. His royal garb consisted of a purple tunic and a gold-trimmed cloak which snugly wrapped his shoulders. A baroque crown with twisted prongs sat tilted on his head, clinging to him as if in love. He loved the crown back much more.

"Symbols are powerful tools that unite people under a cause, King Eric. You shouldn't treat them with levity," warned the thin man walking beside the king. Scars from burns, bites, and cuts riddled his patchy brown skin. Two violent rings spun in his ghostly blue eyes—which blinked uncomfortably long as if there was something stuck in them.

"I'm not complaining. If the traitors want to charge into a spear, it's my royal duty to hold it up for them." The portly king squeaked and wheezed an awkward laugh. No one else laughed with him (or at him).

A disorderly crowd had gathered in the vast castle courtyard. The monuments to wealth—the statues, the fountain, the garden—were now tainted by the stink of poverty. But, the message King Eric meant to deliver was worth inviting rats into his home; for it was a message the rats would spread like the plague.

One more "rat" meandered into the castle grounds behind a pack of dogs in white and blue. When Acacia had realized tailing the marines would lead him to the Fortress of Durban, he had expected to be halted at the gates. And he was. Only the Marines were allowed in without a thorough patting and the surrender of their weapons.

An unhealthy curiosity born of boredom had ensnared Acacia, but it was not enough for him to part with his Meito - even temporarily. When he was sure no eyes were on him, he removed the katana from his hip and slowly sunk it into his chest. His body shifted around the object like dough being kneaded and enveloped the sword. The rest was easy.

Past the invasive security scans, the mob under the execution platform had swollen like an infected bladder. Mumbles and gossip sailed through the crowd in waves. "The rebels will retaliate", "the rebels will surrender", "the rebels are already dead" - there was no consistency to the rumours surrounding the status of the rebels.

Acacia hung around the fringes of the gathering. Without invitation, a small elderly woman with a round face spoke to him. Her skin was wrinkled as a mole's, and her eyelids were so droopy, he could barely see what was under them. And her girly candy pink hair was tied behind her head in a bun.

"The rebels will suffer a severe blow today if this execution proceeds." Her voice shook worse than her unsteady head. "The men they're about to kill are key figures in the resistance." From the corners of his eyes, Acacia looked down at the woman half his size. "Why're you telling me this, lady?"

A mechanical smile bent her peeling lips. "I can see how your heart aches for the misery on this island." Acacia's head cranked towards her before he slipped into a sneering guffaw. "You have no idea how wrong you are. I couldn't care less what happens to any man, woman, or child in this world, let alone this fucking island."

The smile—which seemed to claim its owner knew every secret in the world—did not erase itself from the mysterious elder. "Sometimes, the easiest person for you to fool is yourself. Are you not here in this pit of despair to punish yourself? Heeheeheeheeheehee~" Her snicker was akin to a teenage girl flirting with her crush. Acacia had no response.

The cheers and jeers of the audience flooded the courtyard when the entertainers made their entrance. Ominous steps up to the platform foreshadowed a grim and grisly fate awaiting the captive insurgents.

A large and ugly man in royal garb—whom Acacia assumed to be Durban's King—climbed a smaller platform assembled atop the larger. He cleared his throat before speaking into a loudspeaker snail with the thinnest voice Acacia had ever heard. Acacia's explosive reaction was immediately silenced by a violent glare from the natives around him, lest it won the speaker's attention.

"Complaints."

A pause muted all other voices.

"Every living thing in this world has the capacity to complain. A complaint can either be fair or unfair. A complaint can be heard or ignored. Each one of you, my beloved citizens, has the right to complain. There is a right way to complain, and a wrong way." The king's gaze turned to the convicts who now kneeled between two hooded executioners carrying ceremonial spears.

"These two before you today chose the wrong way." The sinister words somehow cut like broken glass despite the ridiculous voice speaking them.

"The rebellion is nothing more than a murder of crows cawing and crying over the chaos necessary for Durban to progress and become stronger. Remember, people, suffering breeds success. Today, when I kill papa crow here, the cawing will end.  Although these traitors deserve to be crucified like those men who laughed at me two years ago, I have decided to be merciful today and grant them swift ends."

Files of King Eric's brutes had corralled the crowd into submission pre-emptively. Although murmurs responded to the ruler's speech, none were loud enough to reach him.

"Let this be the final warning to all those who insist on complaining the wrong way." He nodded at the executioners, who pumped their spears back, ready to impale their quarries. No charges were read, and not even their names were announced.

"What a farce," Acacia grumbled.

A gust of wind blew across the castle, raising the black hairs on Acacia's arms. Within a single blink, the spearmen collapsed mid-thrust, foaming at the mouth.

Confusion and panic followed.

OOC notes for @Yumiko:

---

Anticipation was a strange thing. It churned at the bottom of one’s stomach, a twisting, uncomfortable sensation. On one hand, Yumiko was most eager to witness the local Shogun in person. She wished to see for herself what manner of man commanded this land. Yet on the other hand... The sense of isolation was creeping up on her. Uneasiness. Dread. In the middle of the murmuring crowd, she felt like an outsider. The puzzling rumors about the rebels snaked into her sharp ears all too easily. If these criminals truly were guilty of treason, then why weren’t people happy that they had been caught...? She cast a glance over her shoulder, towards an odd sound she thought she heard. Someone was laughing? But even that laugh felt more mischievous than anything.

As soon as the king appeared, the samurai threw herself to the ground. Without hesitation she pressed her head into the dirt in the utmost show of respect. Unsurprisingly her fellow marines didn’t follow the gesture. They simply gawked in disbelief, much like the closest civilians. Her superior, meanwhile, was less than impressed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a deep, tired sigh. “Oh for the love of...” He went to snatch her back up by the hair. “Get up, soldier. Save your crawling for when you clean the ship with a toothbrush or whatever.” Admittedly he wasn’t quite sure how to punish her for making a scene. Any heavy or humiliating task he tossed her way was handled without a complaint... Oh well, he would figure out something later.

Yumiko found herself dragged back onto her feet. Her confusion deepened when she saw no one else bowing. Rather some even dared to jeer at their supreme leader. She could only shake her head disapprovingly. The local customs were strange. Her steely gaze focused on the crowned man taking the stage. Such a powerful figure he had. She braced herself what would surely be a booming, nay, thundering speech befitting of a Shogun. Well... When the first notes of the falsetto pierced the air, most of the marines had to desperately stifle laughter. They all knew the grisly fate of those who dared to mock the king. Yumiko, however, was left utterly speechless. Her stare lost its icy edge, replaced by wide-eyed disbelief. Something behind those empty eyes died a little.

After recovering from the initial shock, the swordswoman quickly shook the troubling thoughts out of her head. Nay, it was not right to judge a person based on something they could not change. How shameful of her! All these brave soldiers followed him for a reason. Surely he was a man of courage and valor. However, each venomous word that whistled through the air poisoned the samurai’s opinion further. Cracks appeared on the surface of her hopeful image of the man. Shard by shard, it slowly crumbled away. She stared quietly at the ugly creature emerging from behind it.

When the king dared to admit that some had been slain for merely laughing at him, the samurai’s stare narrowed. What manner of execution was it when the accused were not even allowed to slice their own stomachs? The local customs were so very strange. She wanted to protest. To leap onto the stage and stop this awful display. And yet... A deep sense of duty shackled her to the spot. She grit her teeth together. Opposing the rightful ruler was treason, the second foulest kind of dishonor. Her hand wavered over the grip of her blade. The wind started whispering around her. Frustration churned inside her. It called forth something she didn’t quite understand. A strange kind of spark... But before it could flare, a chill wind blew across the area. Someone else was faster. Fortunately so. A careless, uncontrolled outburst from an ignorant soul would’ve made a huge mess...

With matching light thuds, the executioners collapsed. A collective gasp spread across the crowd like a ripple in a pond. The blunt shock was enough to bash the usual indecisiveness out of the captain. Immediately he spun around to face the usual suspect, firing a furious whisper at her. “What did you do?!” Yumiko blinked. The frustration faded, taking that strange spark with it. “S-sir, I have done nothing yet.” Her honesty was met with brief relief. The captain briefly considered himself lucky the weird woman was too stupid to lie. “Hm, oka- Wait, what do you mean yet?? Gah, now’s not the time...” He could feel a headache coming. If that creepy gust hadn’t come from the kamawhatsit powers, then they had a problem in their hands. A big problem.

Facing the marines, Captain Hoggish started barking commands loud enough to get over the screaming. “Men, someone is trying to interfere! Fan out and find that bastard or whatever it is!” His orders were accompanied by wild flailing, which the soldiers interpreted surprisingly well. They had gotten used to it. Moving in pairs, they spread among the panicking crowd. In the chaos and confusion, it was difficult to determine who was acting suspicious, but they had always followed the captain’s patented ‘punch first, ask questions never’ policy. It was highly efficient when everyone in the vicinity was a suspect. Several unruly citizens quickly found themselves detained. Violently.

Naturally Yumiko too started scanning the area. Though the lingering doubts were proving rather distracting... Her sharp gaze darted between the panicking people. Seeing her own allies go after civilians while the so-called ruler watched from his stage didn’t feel right. Suppressing the sickening sensation, she sharpened her senses... Any suspicious sound or scent, she would surely pick up... Eugh, as soon as she got past this lingering stench of alcohol and other sins at least. She had to pinch her nose to shut out the overpowering smell. Who on earth reeked like this?

[plyr=revo]"Longwood Blues!"[/plyr]

The execution's spectators erupted into a chaotic frenzy like ants flooded out of an anthill. An ear-splitting screech ripped through the crowd. "DON'T LET THEM ESCAPE!!!!" The savage king's face puffed like a blowfish and reddened worse than ripe tomatoes. Indignation spoiled his face - if spoiling a hairy rock were even possible.

"Throw them all into the dungeons!" King Eric squawked. The marine forces entered the fray to try and strong-arm the fringes of the audience. Meanwhile, the ugly merc-like castle guards prodded the front lines with pointed spears.

Acacia surrendered himself to the frantic wave of citizens with a loathsome groan. He did not resist its currents until his eyes fell upon a familiar face for the briefest of moments—the blonde with whom he had spent the previous night.

Throughout the morning, a thought had stewed in the back of his mind. Lingering but never revealing its face.

Why does she feel so familiar? The answer was obvious, though he did not care to admit it to himself.

She looks so much like her... Her golden locks, amber eyes, porcelain skin, and sharp face were all too similar to someone from his past. But, the resemblance did not strike home until he caught a glimpse of her true identity.

The dainty blonde slapped a repugnant guard with her cavalier hat, disorienting him just enough for her powerful shin to meet his neck. The crowd around her gasped and receded. A few more thug-turned-soldiers filled the gap and surrounded her.

Acacia tried to wade closer, but the horrified flock was too stubborn to let him go his way without excessive force. The mob carried him to its boundaries. He was uncomfortably close to a handful of disconcerted marines. Being identified by the Navy in that chaos would have only added fuel to a growing flame.

The two shackled captives on the garish execution platform were on their feet. Their defiant glares pierced King Eric. The dictator rolled his meaty fists into a ball and shifted as if he were about to charge. The ruckus spawned by several unexpected gunshots urged him to reconsider. He swiftly retreated beyond the keep gate at the behest of his scarred companion.

Acacia spotted five cloaked riflemen with smoking muskets kneeling on the battlements of the far wall. They fired again, managing to drop perhaps two of the brutes encircling the blonde aggressor. It was near impossible to tell through the moving crowd, even if Acacia was tall enough to look down on the crowns of most heads.

Two more cloaked intruders struck down the guards near the platform. One of the prisoners turned to the crowd and shouted. "The resistance endures to fight for a free Durban! Wake up, my brothers and sisters!" The audience quieted briefly. "Our families and future generations deserve to live in a country where the air itself doesn't strangle them. Rise with us and bring Eric's tyranny to an end!" The middle-aged speaker panted as he climbed off the makeshift stage. His eyes were sunken and the stubble on his jaws was shaggy and unkempt. No doubt Eric's hospitality was as unpleasant as the rest of him.

The intruders guided their rescuees through the ocean of bodies. Luckily for them, said ocean parted as if on command to form an unobstructed path leading to the courtyard gate. Acacia tracked the blonde woman as she sprinted out. Four of the guards managed to give chase. One chucked his spear like a javelin, grazing the woman's arm. The injury failed to slow her.

Acacia's head had cleared just enough to allow a timely decision. He knew then he would regret letting the familiar blonde slip away, never to be seen again. A rash action was in order if he wished to keep up.

He pulled an arm back and punched the air. His fist did not stop at the end of his arm. The limb stretched into a goopy white substance until it connected his shoulder to the top of the gate. The sheeple around him gawked with their jaws on the ground. Their eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Ehhhhhhh?!"

Acacia did not stick around long enough to see them settle on an explanation for the oddity they had witnessed. The white substance contracted and slingshotted him over the gate to a watchtower across from it. The clock struck eight.

The pursuers of the escaped rebels shouted angry obscenities as they ran down the street. The spiky-haired stalker dropped down and followed. Acacia's torso once again turned to a dough-like goop when he dug into his chest and pulled out a katana in a lavender sheath.

"Sure-kill technique..." He chanted as his left hand gripped the hilt of the sword and his right its scabbard.

"...Longwood Blues!"

A gust trailed his blinding charge, which ended just past the surprised guardsmen. His blade reflected the morning sunlight, dressed with the blood of his four victims.

Acacia's gaze intersected with the blonde woman's only for a second when she noted his assault. She did not seem to care for a reunion. Instead, she turned down an alley behind her comrades. Without wasting a single breath, he resumed his pursuit.

As he hurried down the alley, he could hear one or two pairs of feathery footsteps dashing behind him. His hangover had not spared him enough to permit the use of kenbunshoku. So, he stopped in his tracks at a lonely and claustrophobic alley crossing and spun around to face the hounds.

The panicked ringing of a massive bell started in the direction of the castle.

---

Yumiko’s already fragile focus was utterly shattered by another shrill screech. She clutched her sensitive ears and gritted her teeth. Hng, the local Shogun had healthy lungs at least. If only he would put them to a better use... Once the wave of pain passed, she rushed into the fray as well. Grabbing her sheathed sword, she tried to hold back the mass of frenzied people. A futile effort, really. She simply skidded back against the raging crowd, like a rowboat at the mercy of the waves. Her lacking motivation certainly wasn’t helping either. An order was an order, from the Shogun no less, but... Did they truly all need to be thrown to the dungeons...?

A sudden series of gunshots drew the conflicted marine’s attention. Brief relief visited her features when she saw that none of her allies had gotten hurt. Sharpening her senses, she tried to focus on the scent of the gunpowder. Somewhere over... No, it was useless, she couldn’t see over the heads of the crowd. However, her sharp hearing caught something unsettling. She didn’t want to believe it, of course. The noble Shogun... A tyrant? She tried to shake the thought out of her head. No, nonono, not possible! Rulers were righteous and just, otherwise they would not be chosen. But... The seed of doubt had been planted... And the mention of the suffocating air watered it nicely. For she happened to agree with that one.

As the ocean of bodies parted, Yumiko was slammed to the side by the forming wave. She struggled onto her feet to avoid getting trampled. Something zipped across the edge of her vision. She glanced upwards and promptly did a double take. Eyes bulging, jaw dropping and snot dripping, she stared at the man who slingshotted himself over the gate. A loud gasp underlined her shock. W-w-w-what manner of strange sorcery did these foreigners possess? It must’ve been one of those fruits of the devil. However, the passing breeze carried a stench that yanked her nose. It was... Her sharp gaze darted towards the gate. Him!

Perhaps it was the duty calling or simply hunter’s instincts kicking in, but... Before the weasel woman’s mind could fully understand it, her body was already moving. She jumped onto the crowd, using one guard’s head as a stepping stone. A sudden gust of wind whirled around her, picking her up into the air. Reminiscent of a kite, she soared high above the town. Her keen stare swept the streets below. Hm... There! She spotted the suspect enacting violence on pursuing guards. Without wasting a moment, she swooped downwards in hot pursuit.

Meanwhile, the samurai’s sudden desertion of her post didn’t go unnoticed. One marine nudged another, who in turn jabbed the third and so forth. Soon enough the domino effect reached Captain Hoggish. “Sir, Yumiko just ran off. Chased after the escaping prisoners.” The burly leader shot back a fiery glare, having his hands full with strangling an uppity civilian. “Oh, I know, let’s all just stand around like idiots until somebody does something!” Naturally, the good soldiers followed his orders, much to his dismay. “...Well?!” The closest goon recoiled, uncertainty written all over his pasty features. “But, sir, you said-!” The throbbing vein on the Captain’s forehead threatened to burst as his blood pressure spiked. “I was being sarcastic, or something! After her! NOW!” However, no amount of shouting could change the fact that it was too late. “No can do, boss. The gate’s closed.” His frustrated groan was only matched by the thunk of metal as the gates were locked.

---

Back to the pursuing samurai, she nearly had the drop on the man until he sprinted down a cramped alleyway. Her mere attempt to glide inside resulted in her splatting painfully against the wall. Only a conveniently placed rope suspended between the buildings stopped her from falling. Even up here, she could feel the disgusting stench poking at her nose. Fighting one-handed was going to be tough... Not to mention running right into what might be an ambush... However, Lady Luck smiled upon her. She happened to glance at the clothes lined across the rope, waving in the breeze. Her eyes widened and her expression brightened. This was... exactly what she needed!

Scarcely a couple of seconds later, the pursuer dropped down from her perch and continued the chase. Her light footsteps tapped against the filthy ground. Quick on her feet, she was rapidly gaining on the fleeing suspect. She drew the blade hanging from her belt and took a deep breath...

“Hald, evildoer! Dhou ard under arresd!”

As the tall swordsman turned, a strange shout demanded his attention. Before him stood the oddly-dressed marine who had pursued him all this way. A small, wooden clothespin pinched her nose firmly shut. “Surrender now and dhou shall nod be harmed!” It also squashed her voice like a particularly stubborn flu. Then again, the lingering stench had left her feeling a little congested anyway. “Bud if dhou resisd, dhou shall face mine wradh!” Despite the height difference of several heads and the fact that her sword was practically a sharp hunk of scrap metal next to a Meito, her stern stance didn’t waver. She brandished her nameless blade, seeming blissfully ignorant of the power difference at play. And even if she had known... Well, she had a duty to uphold.

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[plyr=revo]"Who the hell are you?"[/plyr]

Heavy steps thudded through a stone corridor. A shrill voice followed.

[npc=pirt]"Why did you stop me, Garobu?! I was seconds away from ending this annoying rebellion once and for all!"[/npc] King Eric squealed. He turned and loomed over his shorter companion.

Garobu blinked unnervingly long.

[npc=pirt]"You were seconds away from dying from a rebel's bullet."[/npc] The thin man hissed.

King Eric leaned in and puffed up his already menacing frame. His crown shifted over his head.

Garobu did not budge an inch.

[npc=pirt]"Don't think I'll let you get away with puppeteering me just because you work for that beast,"[/npc] Eric growled and continued to walk. Several nutcracker soldiers followed them silently.

[npc=pirt]"You misunderstand me, King Eric. My intention wasn't to control you - it was only to protect you. The last thing my master would want is for something to happen to a valued business partner."[/npc] One would be hard-pressed to guess if the words were genuine or a veiled threat.

[npc=pirt]"HAH!"[/npc] King Eric's shriek made the soldiers twitch. [npc=pirt]"Feed your horseshit to someone else. I'm no fool. I'd be surprised if your master even knew my name."[/npc]

Garobu did not comment.

King Eric grinned, pleased with himself. Two of his yellow teeth were solid gold.

[npc=pirt]"Guards, someone go get my precious fiancée from those useless marines!"[/npc] He barked.

A soldier bowed and detached from the troop to find a particular barrel of a captain.



Acacia paused his pursuit of the rebel escapees to confront the strangely nasal voice attempting to arrest him. He unsheathed Nidai Kitetsu smoothly as he turned. A poor decision, as he would no doubt realize.

A short woman dressed in what looked to be a kimono challenged him. Acacia's guard dropped when he noticed the clothespin pinching her nose. He had seen ladies wear bizarre accessories before, but this was a first.

[plyr=revo]"Who the hell are you?"[/plyr] He asked with a callous frown.

The longhaired swordswoman didn't look at all like one of King Eric's brutish goons. Yet, she struck familiar somehow. He would've bet his next bottle of hooch he had seen her somewhere recently.

[plyr=revo]"Wait... Did we sleep together?"[/plyr]

The previous few nights had melded together into an undecipherable mess. Tactless as it may have been, it was better just to ask. Perhaps the woman's memory was sharper than his. Though he hoped it wasn't sharp enough to cut.

Little did he know he had followed her and her comrades (some might call that stalker-ish behaviour) through town that very morning—comrades who, unlike her, wore a uniform far more recognizable.

Meanwhile, a raggedy grey-haired man lingered near the encounter. He stood atop a roof overlooking the filthy alley with his hands deep in his pockets. A faint confident smile upturned his stubbled mouth.

[npc=revo]"Found you."[/npc]

---

Behind the closed gates, the castle courtyard was still in complete chaos. The crowd was putting up admirable resistance. Punches, kicks, biting... Every measure of violence was employed. Someone was even beating a lanky, thin officer with a handbag. Strength in numbers mixed with desperation made a fearsome cocktail.

Captain Hoggish, the master of prioritizing, had shifted his focus on taming the unruly civilians. Some poor fool charged him, screaming at the top of his lungs. He grabbed the man by his face and hoisted him up with a single arm. A couple of quick steps... And a toss! ...Sent the guy rolling right into a group of royal guards.

“Heads up or whatever!”

However, the guards failed to catch the screaming surprise projectile and were bowled over. But that wasn’t the Captain’s problem, now was it? He wasn’t the kind of man to get stuck on little details, like who got hurt. His job was far more important than that...

Speaking of an important job, a lone soldier hurried over to the Captain. The King’s command was conveyed quickly. Hoggish scratched his messy beard. “Right, right... You there, Petty Officer Whatchamacallit!” He aimed a sharp point at the closest man wearing blue.

One of the Marines came running and skidded to a stop before the Captain. He was a young, lanky boy with more pimples than muscles. “P-petty OffICEr Callit rePOrting for duTy!” And a voice like an off-tune trumpet. It squeaked up and down ever so awkwardly.

Hoggish gestured broadly in the general direction of the execution platform. “Go fetch the Princess or whatever. Don’t let anything happen to her and so forth.” His order was met with quizzical, even skeptical stares from his men.

All except one.

The Petty Officer clicked his heels together and saluted. “YEs Sir, MIster, uh, CaptAin HoggISh Sir!” He seemed rather giddy as he hurried off. Sharper ears could, perhaps, catch him muttering how he couldn’t wait to tell mom about this important duty.

Sadly, some dreams were set to be broken. There was a smack so loud rang over even the commotion, followed by a weak thud. The King’s fiance was surrounded by the cloaked intruders, struggling to escape their grip. “HEEEEEELP!” Her voice was to ears as a grater was to cheese. Truly she and the King were meant for each other.

The Petty Officer staggered weakly back onto his feet, nursing a black eye. “Oh gOsh... Uhh, MistEr HOGgish Sir, it hAPPened agAIn...!” In the background, one Marine buried his face in his palms, while another sarcastic soul questioned what were the odds.

---

Meanwhile, in the stuffy alley, Yumiko was out of the piercing scream’s reach. Thankfully. Her focus was solely on the tall man before her. His rude question was met with a stern declaration. “I am Gamaidachi no Yumigo and I am a samurai.” She gave him an expectant look. Naturally he would offer his name in exchange.

...Or not.

The swordswoman was visibly baffled by the tactless question. “Whad...?” She shook her head and politely corrected him. “Nay, I sleeb widh mine gomrades in the grew gabin.” Her firm stare narrowed. “And dhou are nod one of dhem.” Thus she couldn’t have slept together with him.

Yumiko lifted her blade, aiming a dramatic, challenging point at the foe. “Lasd chance! Sdade dhy name and surrender!” Call it instinct, call it gut-feeling, but she already had the impression the foe wouldn’t simply yield... They never did.

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[plyr=revo]"Gama da what now?"[/plyr]

The mob in the castlegrounds fumbled within itself like a flock of sheep alarmed by ravenous wolves. Part of the crowd dove into the castle gate to breach the iron bars. Most of them would have assumed the effort was futile.

They would have been wrong.

[npc=misc]"I feel stronger all of a sudden!"[/npc] Declared a citizen as he struggled against the grates.

[npc=misc]"Me too!"[/npc] Cried another.

The consensus among them was they all felt invigorated and mighty beyond their limits.

A keen ear might have heard the mischievous [npc=revo]"Heeheehee~"[/npc] of a pink-haired wrinkly lady relishing the miracle at play.

The gate warped under the weight of the horde until it shattered through its stone housing and fell. The thunderous clamour of the fall marked a crucial moment in Durban's history. But, only a select few understood its significance at the time.

The citizens poured out of the courtyard and fled to safety. King Eric's wrath had yet to follow, for he had not realized some insolent curs were impolitely spiriting away his prized maiden to add insult to injury.

Elsewhere, a spiky-haired swordsman reeking of booze and blunts confronted a long-haired swordswoman with queer tastes in accessories.

[plyr=revo]"Gama da what now? 'You may go'? Samurai--why are you even chasing me?"[/plyr] Acacia asked.

His gears turned to process her gibberish. He had heard of the mysterious swordmasters of Wano Country, but he could not imagine what business one of them might have had with him.

Acacia grunted impatiently when the strange bird continued her incomprehensible nasal chirps.

[plyr=revo]"I can't understand you. If you're not gonna take that stupid thing off your nose and talk like a normal fucking person, I'm leaving. I don't have time to waste on you,"[/plyr] he snarled. Acacia was sure by then they could never have slept together. He had sunk into depravity, not stupidity.

He turned to continue his pursuit, but his gut promised the self-proclaimed samurai would follow.

The chase ended prematurely.

A scruffy grey-haired individual stood firm in their path. The stranger wore a child-like smile with his eyes shut. Acacia could not detect even the slightest trace of hostility from the man. And yet, his legs failed to advance.

[npc=revo]"Grimm Aldous Acacia. We've been looking for you,"[/npc] the waylayer said.

Acacia's hair stood on end when he heard that name.

Before he could react, the stranger vanished from sight. The next moment, an incoming blackened fist obscured Acacia's vision as it crushed his nose and smashed into his face.

The grey-haired man punched Acacia into the ground.

With his smile undiminished, the man approached the samurai. Not a single step betrayed aggression despite his action seconds before.

[npc=revo]"Kamaitachi no Yumiko-san, wasn't it? I am called Price. Please excuse the uncordial invitation, but I need the pair of you to come with me,"[/npc] he said as he brought down a swift, decisive chop to the back of the woman's neck.

Acacia slipped into a forced dream as his faculties departed - the last thing he saw was the pesky maiden's face.

---

Slowly the wolves in white circled the unruly sheep. They were about to bring order to this courtyard. A couple more broken bones should do it. Make an example out of one and the rest would fall in line... That’s what leading by example meant, right? Right.

Unfortunately, miracles had an awful habit of occurring at the most inconvenient times. A brutish Marine marched closer, fingers itching to arrest somebody. A couple of seconds later, said Marine was sent tumbling back with a fist imprint on his chin.

Stone grumbled. Metal whined. With a mighty, combined heave, the flock of sheep pushed through the mighty gate.

Eyes bulged. Jaws dropped. With a mighty, combined “HUUUUUUUUH?!?!”, the wolves recoiled in raw shock.

Even the usually unflappable Captain Hoggish looked stunned. So stunned, in fact, that he forgot to order his men to pursue. They all just stood there, questioning their eyes. And life choices, probably. His carelessness proved very convenient for the fleeing rebels...

Meanwhile, back at a certain stinky alley...

Beneath the cold mask, the samurai wasn’t quite sure whether to feel insulted at how the snake spat his venom and twisted her name... Or relieved that this time she hadn’t been misheard as a different kind of -kama... It didn’t take much deliberation for her to lean towards the latter. She would take what she could get.

Yumiko’s glare narrowed when the suspect continued to slash with his sharp tongue. No name, no manners... And no honor. How very typical of his ilk. The demand to remove the shield of her sensitive nose was immediately shot down. “I refuse. Dhou shall only leave in chains...” Her grip on the blade tightened. She had no intention of letting him leave.

However, before the swordswoman could try anything reckless, a mysterious stranger stepped onto the filthy, narrow stage. It was unexpected to find someone so friendly here of all places... But not unpleasant. She lifted a curious brow. Acacia of Grimm Aldous... Now her suspect had a name.

However, in a single instant, the samurai’s good impression was smashed, much like the coarse man’s face. Blinking, she glanced frantically between the now empty spot and the smiling stranger. Her hair bristled. An unnatural chill traced its cold claws down her back. Her animal instincts were screaming at her. Get away...! This one is dangerous...!

But her code refused to allow even a single step back.

Thus Yumiko stood her ground. She was well aware that the line between bravery and foolishness had been crossed. As the stranger approached, she felt like she was gazing up at a giant. An immense shadow towered over her, with his aura of fire and footsteps of thunder. Perhaps there was some truth to the wild imagination... Still, she returned his greeting with a civil nod.

“Well med, Sir Price. I musd refuse-”

Like a bolt of lightning, the impact shook the lithe woman’s frame. Her eyes rolled back and jaw went slack. The cheap blade slipped from her grip and clattered against the ground. Light left her mind running. Reminiscent of a rag doll, limp and lifeless, she slumped over.

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