Hello! Posting a new story that I have had stirring in the pot for a while. This will probably...
Order of Legendary Gentlemen
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FacelessDoll
A genetic error
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Hello! Posting a new story that I have had stirring in the pot for a while. This will probably update less frequently than my Worm fic, simply by virtue of the chapters being longer, and that this doesn't follow any real canon and as such will take longer to plan and set up. This is a fic very much inspired by Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, a series of comics that I love and which I first got introduced to through the film, which to this day is one of my favorite movies.
The story starts out fairly similar to the comics which I am taking inspiration from, but I wish to reassure you that it will not be following that plot. So, yeah, take that as...a disclaimer? Not sure.
Now on to the actual story.
Many greedy and lust filled eyes bore into her back as her guide led her into a small ramshackled building at the side of the road. It had no door, just a curtain hanging over the entrance, and a strong smell of incense coming from within. The woman dropped some coin into the withered man's hands, giving her thanks in simplistic Arabic as she politely gestured that she would prefer to be alone from that point onwards. The old man nodded, his eyes never leaving the coins as they fell into his sand caked palms, and he quickly shoved them into some unseen fold in his clothing. His eyes darted around, as if to see if anyone had seen the transaction, then he left, his hurried steps quickly being lost in the mass of activity outside.
"Monsieur Dantes? Are you there?" The woman's voice hung in the air like some dead thing that had been left out in the sun. "I mean you no harm, monsieur. I come seeking your aid."
For a time the only sounds within the room were the sounds of the busy street outside, but just as the woman was about to call out again the sound of a man coughing in the next room, beyond a ratty red curtain, caught her attention.
"Monsieur?" Her voice rang like a bell as her eyes scanned the room. She couldn't help but to wrinkle her nose at the stained walls and floor. A horrible scent, something sharp and dank, hung in the air as well, and the woman found herself breathing through her mouth to avoid it. Then her eyes settled on the form of a young man, though his white hair made him seem older, huddled on the floor in a half awake state.
She ran over to him, her eyes taking in his rags he wore as clothing and the pale complexion of his skin. He was thin. Too thin. And his eyes were bloodshot and red, seeing through her more than at her. Worry overtaking her, she began to check him for injuries, but found nothing besides a few superficial scrapes and bruises which had not been healing well due to his malnourished state.
"Oh Monsieur Dantes, what a state to find a hero in."
"Hero?" The man choked out a pained laugh, his face stretching into a mocking smile as his deranged laughter turned into cacophonous gasps for breath. "I am afraid you have me mistaken for someone else, mademoiselle. No one who knows of me would ever call me hero."
The woman cocked her head to the side, her blue eyes shining with some confusion. "Are you not Monsieur Edmond Dantes?"
"Non. I am afraid not. Désolé de décevoir. It seems you came here for nothing."
"May I ask your name then, monsieur? When I return, it would be best that I return with the name of the man mistaken for Monsieur Dantes. I would not wish to have you disturbed again."
The man went silent for a moment, appearing pensive. "I am but a lonely old count. Now if you would, I have a dream I have desire to return to."
The woman brightened. "Count? Like the Count of Monte Cristo? Marvelous! So you are Edmond Dantes!"
The man sat up suddenly, startling the woman who let out a small yelp of surprise as she scooted back away from him. "Mademoiselle, you are terribly mistaken. I no Edmond Dantes. Do not refer to me as such again." His voice was cold and hard, like stone, and his eyes bore into hers with a sudden clarity that was not present before.
"Je suis désolé. I believed you to be Edmond Dantes. I have traveled from France in search of him, you see. All alone, and such a long journey as well. A journey fraught with perils. All to find that man so that he may help save France, and the world, from disaster."
"Pardon my bluntness, mademoiselle, but to me it sounds like you have been sent on a fool's errand."
She hummed. "Perhaps there is some truth to what you say. Still, what sad news it will be that Monsieur Dantes was not here. I fear for the fate of our country without him."
The man grunted, then laid back down. The woman let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging as she made to get up, only to find a rough grease covered hand on her shoulder. Turning her head, the French woman saw a pair of men, one large and rotund, while the other was small and frail looking, a crooked knife held in one hand. They began to shout something at her in Arabic, but they spoke so quickly and all at once, and she found that she could not make out what they were saying. Then the larger one placed a large meaty hand over her chest while the other began to pull at the waist of her pants, and she understood what their intentions were.
The man grinned as he began to lean into her, but before she could even cry out, she felt his weight disappear. She found herself lost for a moment, only to realise that the man had not vanished, but instead had been sent head first into the far war, his brain matter adding yet another stain to the now cracked stone. The scent of urine reached her nose, and she realized idly that the smaller man had pissed himself.
"Mademoiselle, you must be more aware of your surroundings. The men here are not like the men back in France." The white haired man was standing now, his eyes fierce and his hand stretched out as though to ward something away. His voice and sickly appearance apparently restored what confidence the smaller rapist had, and he rushed the male foreigner with his knife drawn. However, before he could reach him, he found himself feeling weak, a horrible pain welling in his chest. It was hard to breath...as though he were drowning, but not in water, in something thicker. Then the blonde woman withdrew her rapier, and the man collapsed upon the ground. Her companion watched her with interest as the thin blade vanished in motes of light.
The man gave the blonde a wary look. "I do not think you gave me your name, mademoiselle."
The woman tilted her head to the side, a curious expression on her face as one of her would-be rapists convulsed on the floor. "I am le Chevalier d'Eon." The woman smiled brightly at her companion, her chin lifting and her hips cocking to one side. "A servant to the country of France, and also a Servant. In short, I am a hero, just like you, Monsieur Dantes."
The white haired man grimaced, but he quickly schooled his features and corrected his posture. Though he held some contempt for that name, he would not lash out like some sort of uncivilized ruffian. "Though you are correct in your assumption that I am The Count of Monte Cristo, I am not Edmond Dantes. Who that man was, and who I am now is not the same, and I will have to respectfully request that you do not refer to me as though I were him."
d'Eon's smile melted into a pensive frown, her eyes blinking as she turned the words over in her head. Finally she smiled. "Oui, I shall honor this request then, Monsieur Cristo." The man rose an eyebrow at the pseudonym, but raised no objections to it. "I have come to you for assistance. The country of France is in grave peril, monsieur, and I fear that no single Servant alone can save it."
"France…" The man would be lying if he said he did not miss the country at time, but it was not his home, and it had become stained with many a poor memory. "I hold no love for the people of France. For what purpose would I help people who have nothing to do with me?"
The blonde's eyes narrowed. "Monsieur, be mindful of what you say. Surely you cannot be so callous as to condemn so many people; to abandon your duties as a hero?"
The man scoffed. "Hero? I am no hero, or do you not know? I did not act out of any sort of heroic idealism. I acted out of hate and disgust. I saved no lives, mademoiselle. Do you know what I did?" He halted for a moment, staring into her bright blue eyes with his own vacant red orbs. "I dragged them to hell, mademoiselle. I dragged them kicking and screaming into the fiery pits where they would face everlasting torture. I did it because I hated them, and because I wanted revenge. Revenge fueled me then, spurred me into action. Tell me, mademoiselle, what is there to motivate me now?"
The chevalier was glaring at him now. It was an expression that he did not think suited her face, but it was also an expression that, as an Avenger, he felt was more than suited for being directed at him. "I understand that you hold no loyalty to France, but I had thought compassion would be enough to 'spur you on' as you say." Then a remarkable thing happened. Her expression shifted from a glare to a look of pity. "Has your past really poisoned your heart so? Or is it your mind that has been poisoned?" She cast a glance at the number of empty medicine and alcohol bottles scattered around the floor.
The man narrowed his eyes. "Compassion? Non. I have no compassion for man. They are nothing but pigs, filled with greed and with care only for themselves. My compassion would be wasted on them. They are only deserving of my hate."
d'Eon cast a long look at the man. "I see then. I came here hoping to find the great Count of Monte Cristo, but instead I found only a man. A poor man lost in his his own head and with care only for himself. Forgive me, monsieur. I am afraid that I mistook you for someone else." The woman gave a curt nod of her head, her face set in a neutral expression, and politely bowed out of the room.
The white haired man frowned as he laid himself back on the ground, lifting a bottle to drink whatever small drops were left at the bottom of it. As he did he tried to ignore the beating of his heart and the burning behind his eyes.
He could not.
Le Chevalier hid her disappointment well. As one who was a spy for France in her life, it was only natural that no emotion rose to the surface of her countenance without her willing it to. Even so, she knew that her low spirits had made her journey to the harbor even longer than it otherwise would have been. She thanked her good sense of direction as she arrived at the ship, however. She did not think she could stand to be in Cairo any longer than she had to. Nothing but a city of beggars and ruffians, and she could tolerate having to bear witness to the horrible things they did in plain sight. She quickly came to the conclusion that this was why Edmond Dantes chose to come here. What better place for a hateful person to rest than a city that reaffirms all of his beliefs?
The docks were just as busy as the rest of the city, though the hustle and bustle was more purposeful than what one would find on the streets. Men unloaded and loaded various supplies off and onto the numerous varied ships, sailors huddled together with glasses of alcohol celebrating a successful journey, and shady bureaucrats took "donations" as they let through contraband. It was a small improvement from the state of the rest of the city, d'Eon found, but even so she found herself with no desire to stay any longer than need be.
After a time she found herself before a great ship. What was once a merchant's frigate had been refitting with various armaments and improvements, among them being the addition of forty cannons. It was an older design compared to most of the ships, having first been launched nearly two centuries previous, but it was much more than a mortal vessel.
In front of the ship was the slouched form of the ship's captain. At his full height he stood at near seven feet tall, his form, clad in a double breasted long coat that reach his ankles worn open with no shirt beneath and his loose trousers held up by chains, seemed intimidating and dangerous. The chevalier's eyes found their way to the flintlock pistols holstered at his side and the hooked blade holstered to his wrist. He was most certainly a dangerous man, and one she would not normally be willing to keep the company of (and not just because he was English), however, after having gotten to know that man she could not bring herself to consider him intimidating. Because, despite his tall frame and ominous dress…
"Ah! The beautiful angel that lights my life has returned!" He leapt at her, arms outstretched to embrace her. The blonde chevalier stepped aside, allowing him to dive face first into the wooden docks.
...this man was an idiot.
"Dammit, woman! The old sailor tends to his ship, weary from a long travel, only to be surprised by his young sweet wife's appearance. It was a beautifully romantic moment, and you have gone and ruined it!" The man sat cross legged on the floor, his muscular arms crossed over his chest as he pouted, his pursed lips standing out amongst his black beard. His hair stuck up at odd ends now, having fallen out of its, admittedly still messy, brushed back style after his fall.
"There is much that is wrong with what you have said, Monsieur Teach." le Chevalier spoke, managing to retain a professional air about her despite her growing exasperation.
"Aye." Edward Teach grunted in affirmation. "You are far from sweet, despite your appearance. You are a wicked woman in the guise of a beautiful girl. Bah, truly despicable."
"...I cannot help but feel we are not truly in agreement."
Murmurs began to surround them as more and more people found their attention drawn to the child in an adult man's body. d'Eon felt the urge to hide her face behind her hands, but decided that doing so would only damage her dignity more. "Monsieur Teach, we must be going now. We still have another gentleman to meet with."
The captain perked up at that. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Oh? Where is the lad you came to get from here then? Does he have his own boat. Is he a captain as well! I will not abide by this insult! I am the only captain you need, dear, and no ship is a greater ship than my own. Bwahahahaha!" The man broke into deep guffaws, his hands clasping at his stomach as it rocked with his joy.
Le Chevalier sighed. "Monsieur Dantes was not here. It seems we were mistaken."
The man stopped. "Eh? But smarty pants seemed so sure he was here."
"Well he was not. Now it is best we depart quickly. I do not wish to remain in this city any longer than I must." And with that she strode away, walking up the gangplank with long strides.
Edward Teach, the legendary Blackbeard, scratched at his cheek in confusion. "...but he seemed so sure…"
After a moment he stood up and walked towards Queen Anne's Revenge at a leisurely pace. "Oi! Men! We be setting off! Time to abandon this shit stain of a port and make our way home! Next stop: London! Bwahahahaha!"
Seven Days Later, London
There was a killer on the loose.
Several dozen men and women, muggers and prostitutes, killed in only two short months. Bodies torn apart as though by a wild animal with faces twisted into everlasting expressions of terror. A monster roamed the streets of London. A monster that could not be caught, so they said. When d'Eon heard these tales she knew that this was more than just a normal killer. This was a threat beyond humanity.
Edward Teach let out a low burp as he took a swig of his gin. "Why are we here again?"
d'Eon suppressed a groan. "You heard the same stories as I, Monsieur Teach. This killer, this beast, must be more than a mere human killer. Non. This must be another like us. A Heroic Spirit, but one that is more monster than hero."
"And we are hunting this Heroic Spirit why? Not that I wouldn't enjoy a good brawl…" He took another drink from his flask. "But isn't our job here to find that lad the boss wants us to find?"
"Well, yes, but I cannot sit idly by while this monster roams the streets. Besides, as of right now we have no leads on this man we have been told to find."
"Well, I suppose it is worth it to see you all dressed up like this." Edward Teach grinned lecherously as he looked her up and down. d'Eon was dressed in a tight corset and a blouse which showed off her shoulders and the top of her admittedly rather flat breasts, though they had been subtly padded to make them look somewhat more apparent. Her skirt was made with layered fabrics which fell such to show off her ankles and boot clad feet. Her face was done up with layers of makeup and her hair was styled up with her bangs falling down to frame her face.
The woman blushed furiously. "Avert your eyes you disgusting pervert." She swung her fist at the man, but he jumped out of reach as he laughed. "I am not wearing this for your benefit; I am doing this to draw out the monster!"
"Aye, aye, I know. Do not get your knickers in a twist."
Le Chevalier took a few steadying breaths to calm herself. "Get into position, Monsieur Teach."
"Aye aye."
Blackbeard leaned against a wall at the opposite side of the street in an alley, hidden in the shadows as he watched his partner make a display of herself underneath a street lamp. It had been at least an hour, and nothing had happened yet. Worse yet, he was out of gin!
He took a look at the surrounding area. Empty. No one wanted to come out with this monster on the loose, and if the monster was indeed a Heroic Spirit he doubted this optimistic plan would work to draw them out. As such, surely it wouldn't be all that bad of him to go find himself some more drink, right? Chuckling to himself, Blackbeard slinked away out of sight.
It was long after he lost sight of his partner that he happened across a pub that was still open. Grinning, he strode in with long heavy steps. Pushing the door open, he shouted out in greeting. "BWAHAHA! Good evening, lads! One bottle of gin! No, TWO bottles of gin! BWAHAHA!"
There was no response. Teach creased his brow and stepped further into the pub, suddenly on guard. "Hello? Gin? Rum? Do you have it?" Though perhaps his priorities weren't quite right.
Finally reaching the bar, and seeing nothing of notice, he relaxed. "Well, it would be bad to just leave all this drink here where anyone could take it." Grinning, he lept over the bar to grab the bottles of alcohol, only to hear a wet squelch as his boots hit the ground. Looking down, he found himself standing in a pool of blood, a number of men torn apart and laid behind the bar, expressions of fear on their faces.
Then he heard growling.
Turning around he found himself faced with a snarling maw filled with sharp canines that were each the size of his fist. Drool dripped onto the floor as the beast stared at him with glowing red eyes. A single wolfish paw rose and fell onto the bar, crushing it under its weight. Blackbeard stared at the giant monster in shock.
"...crap."
The French spy smiled prettily as she made herself appealing from her position. There did not seem to be anyone around to see her - except Edward Teach, who was no doubt watching from the shadows with a stupid grin on his face - but she did not desire to give the monster any hint of her plan. The culprit must be much more than just a simple beast to have gone unnoticed for so long. Well, not unnoticed, but it had to at least be intelligent enough to not be seen by witnesses. Not by living ones at least.
Though, the French spy was beginning to have some doubts about her plan. London was a large city, and even with the serial killer about, there were no doubt plenty of desperate ladies of the night walking about. Plenty of victims for the beast to feast on. What were the chances that she would be the one it would target?
Perhaps it would have been wiser to act as the hunter than the prey, but where to start? The monstrous Heroic Spirit had not been so foolish as to keep to a set, routine territory. Or perhaps the Heroic Spirit simply lacked the sanity to even consider such a thing. As a result of this unpredictability, d'Eon and Blackbeard could not properly set up an ambush of any sort, and as such had but two options. Search the city for signs of a killer that may not even be active that night, leaving them tired, unprepared, and likely in unfamiliar territory, or choose the battlefield and attempt to draw the monster out. Neither option was perfect, and despite the inherent dangers of the former action, the chevalier was beginning to wonder if they had chosen wrong.
The agent let out a sigh, relaxing into a more comfortable posture as she turned towards the spot where she and her partner had agreed the pirate should hide. "I am afraid our hunt will not be bearing much fruit, Monsieur Teach. It may be best to take a more proactive approach."
"Oh, and what are you hunting, little tart?"
The French chevalier felt a shiver rise up her spine as prana filled the air. The Heroic Spirits summoned all over the world lacked the sheer massive prana consumption and force that would normally be expected, and as such it was much harder to notice the average Servant if they were not using their abilities. But once they truly began to use their power they would shine like beacons, exhaling prana like a billowing cloud from a steam engine.
She turned on her heel to face the new arrival.
The man stood hunched over, his gloved hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants held up by suspenders over a white dress shirt, a black coat hanging off his shoulders. He looked ordinary, if somewhat disheveled, his blonde hair a crow's nest that stuck up at odd ends and his clothing wrinkled. His eyes, however, revealed his deeper nature. Red wine colored orbs with dilated pupils set in contrast to dark, almost bruise like skin that spoke of little sleep. His gaze roved across her figure, settling at the curve of her waist and his mouth stretch into a canine like grin, rabid and full of teeth.
The chevalier did not respond to the blonde man's question, instead leaping back towards the spot where Edward Teach lay in wait. Upon touching down on the ground, she turned her head slightly, only to see out of the corner of her eye a vacant space occupied only by a few empty bottles. She grit her teeth.
Damn that useless man.
"Oi, where do you think you're going?"
The blonde man leapt at her, a clenched fist raised in the air as he descended on her location. Cursing the pirate once more under her breath, d'Eon rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the man's fist as it came crashing into the ground, breaking stone and sending pieces of debris flying in all directions. As she came to her feet, the slim woman materialized her rapier in her hand, falling into a familiar fencing stance before lunging forward, seeking to skewer the man on the tip of her blade.
The man was fast, however, and side hopped out of the path of her jab, slapping the blade down into the ground as he did so. He raised a leg to trap the blade in place, but d'Eon was already moving, turning her body out of her lung and swinging the blade away from her foe, only for it to come back around towards him from behind. The unnamed Servant cursed as a thin line was cut into his cheek, him being unable to react fast enough to the new attack.
Recognizing her foe's relative inexperience, d'Eon pressed her advantage, curling her body in on itself and lunging again at a close range, faster and with more power. The man, outraged by his injury, swore as he too stepped forward, a fist flying over the chevalier's head, her body now lower than it had been just a second before. Her rapier pierced the man's leg, and she pulled on the blade to prepare for her next attack, only to find it stuck in place.
The man scowled at her, face twisted into the snarling countenance of a beast, as he stiffened his leg, the muscles within contracted such as to trap the blade in place. "You bloody whore. I'll tear of your god damned head for that." His hands shot forward, each wrapping around her skull and he pulled. The chevalier let out a startled gasp as she felt her neck crack and pop and her vision darkened and grew unfocused.
She lifted a knee, pressing it into the mad man's crotch, and he let go in surprise from the sudden strike. Finally able to pull her blade free, the French agent brought it up in a swift slash which cut across her opponent's chest and left his white shirt stained red.
d'Eon rallied herself as her vision came back to her. "This is for all those people you've killed in your madness!"
"What!?" The man looked incredulous at the proclamation. "I've only been out just a few hours, you tart! I haven't the time to do shit yet!"
The french agent shook her head. "I will not believe you lies. Now quit your pleading and ac-"
Her rant was cut off by the shout of the man she had grown to despise so much.
"Lass! I found your monster!" Blackbeard came running onto the scene, his knees shooting up into the air as he dashed and at least a dozen bottles of various alcoholic beverages held in his arms.
"Monsieur! What is this!? Did you really abandon me for rum?"
"That is besides the point, lass!"
A shade came howling out of the darkness, white blue fur shining in the moonlight like a spectre of the night. It was upon the fleeing pirate in a second, catching him in its massive jaws and lifting him into the air, sword like teeth digging into the man's arms as he cried out, his precious drinks falling to the ground and shattering below. The beast tossed the man aside, and lifted its head in a howl.
The chevalier stared in shock. The beast was a wolf, though far larger than any she had ever seen. It was the size of the largest stallions she had ever seen, and its eyes observed her as they lowered, studying her with the air of cool calculation she had only seen in the most ruthless of leaders. Mounted on the monster's back was a man, or at least most of one. He wore black leather, garbed like a wicked hunter of the night, his shoulders adorned by a billowing red cape. One hand clutched at the fur on the back of the wolf's neck, while the other raised a curved blade above his neck. Not his head. He had no head.
The blue eyed chevalier looked at her former opponent, and found his eyes fixed on her with the same flabbergasted expression that she herself must have worn. Then, as one, they turned towards the monster, both suddenly aware of the danger of the situation. They were both tired and injured, to differing degrees. This beast could cut either of them down if they fought it alone and would no doubt give chase for the other.
"I am Mademoiselle d'Eon, the Chevalier."
The man snorted beside her. "Right. Name's Hyde."
She nodded. "I am afraid we will have to work together if we have any hope of slaying this beast."
"Lovely."
From the wolf's spot beneath Hessian, Lobo growled in challenge.
Firstly, I apologize for what was probably pretty bad French on my part, even if it was not very pervasive.
Secondly, I'd love to hear all of your thoughts. This has been something I've been outlining and preparing to write for a while, and I'm excited to finally get it down and out there. Thank you all for your time, and I hope you enjoyed my work.
The story starts out fairly similar to the comics which I am taking inspiration from, but I wish to reassure you that it will not be following that plot. So, yeah, take that as...a disclaimer? Not sure.
Now on to the actual story.
Summary: Humanity is under threat, the timeline is fraying, but there is no Chaldea to save the world. No Masters to fight the good fight. Just a group of heroes, of gentlemen, brought together for one purpose. Stop the degradation of the timeline, and try not to kill each other. And they were called...The Order of Legendary Gentlemen. (Inspired by Alan Moore's League of Extraordinary Gentlemen)
First Chapter
"Anyone can be heroic from time to time, but a gentleman is something you have to be all the time."
Luigi Pirandello
Cairo, February 1896"Anyone can be heroic from time to time, but a gentleman is something you have to be all the time."
Luigi Pirandello
The streets bustled with activity, over crowded with street vendors and hagglers arguing over sweat covered pieces of meat, their rotting teeth jabbering angry profanities as shifty eyed riff raff exchanged small coins for bags of unidentified substance. Amidst the throng of people a woman with fair skin and blonde hair, dressed sharply as a man in an expensive noble's suit being led through the twisting streets by an old toothless man with hard wrinkled skin like tanned leather. The woman attracted many eyes for her white skin and fair looks, and more than one pedestrian paid careful attention to her fine clothing and noble bearing.Many greedy and lust filled eyes bore into her back as her guide led her into a small ramshackled building at the side of the road. It had no door, just a curtain hanging over the entrance, and a strong smell of incense coming from within. The woman dropped some coin into the withered man's hands, giving her thanks in simplistic Arabic as she politely gestured that she would prefer to be alone from that point onwards. The old man nodded, his eyes never leaving the coins as they fell into his sand caked palms, and he quickly shoved them into some unseen fold in his clothing. His eyes darted around, as if to see if anyone had seen the transaction, then he left, his hurried steps quickly being lost in the mass of activity outside.
"Monsieur Dantes? Are you there?" The woman's voice hung in the air like some dead thing that had been left out in the sun. "I mean you no harm, monsieur. I come seeking your aid."
For a time the only sounds within the room were the sounds of the busy street outside, but just as the woman was about to call out again the sound of a man coughing in the next room, beyond a ratty red curtain, caught her attention.
"Monsieur?" Her voice rang like a bell as her eyes scanned the room. She couldn't help but to wrinkle her nose at the stained walls and floor. A horrible scent, something sharp and dank, hung in the air as well, and the woman found herself breathing through her mouth to avoid it. Then her eyes settled on the form of a young man, though his white hair made him seem older, huddled on the floor in a half awake state.
She ran over to him, her eyes taking in his rags he wore as clothing and the pale complexion of his skin. He was thin. Too thin. And his eyes were bloodshot and red, seeing through her more than at her. Worry overtaking her, she began to check him for injuries, but found nothing besides a few superficial scrapes and bruises which had not been healing well due to his malnourished state.
"Oh Monsieur Dantes, what a state to find a hero in."
"Hero?" The man choked out a pained laugh, his face stretching into a mocking smile as his deranged laughter turned into cacophonous gasps for breath. "I am afraid you have me mistaken for someone else, mademoiselle. No one who knows of me would ever call me hero."
The woman cocked her head to the side, her blue eyes shining with some confusion. "Are you not Monsieur Edmond Dantes?"
"Non. I am afraid not. Désolé de décevoir. It seems you came here for nothing."
"May I ask your name then, monsieur? When I return, it would be best that I return with the name of the man mistaken for Monsieur Dantes. I would not wish to have you disturbed again."
The man went silent for a moment, appearing pensive. "I am but a lonely old count. Now if you would, I have a dream I have desire to return to."
The woman brightened. "Count? Like the Count of Monte Cristo? Marvelous! So you are Edmond Dantes!"
The man sat up suddenly, startling the woman who let out a small yelp of surprise as she scooted back away from him. "Mademoiselle, you are terribly mistaken. I no Edmond Dantes. Do not refer to me as such again." His voice was cold and hard, like stone, and his eyes bore into hers with a sudden clarity that was not present before.
"Je suis désolé. I believed you to be Edmond Dantes. I have traveled from France in search of him, you see. All alone, and such a long journey as well. A journey fraught with perils. All to find that man so that he may help save France, and the world, from disaster."
"Pardon my bluntness, mademoiselle, but to me it sounds like you have been sent on a fool's errand."
She hummed. "Perhaps there is some truth to what you say. Still, what sad news it will be that Monsieur Dantes was not here. I fear for the fate of our country without him."
The man grunted, then laid back down. The woman let out a sigh, her shoulders sagging as she made to get up, only to find a rough grease covered hand on her shoulder. Turning her head, the French woman saw a pair of men, one large and rotund, while the other was small and frail looking, a crooked knife held in one hand. They began to shout something at her in Arabic, but they spoke so quickly and all at once, and she found that she could not make out what they were saying. Then the larger one placed a large meaty hand over her chest while the other began to pull at the waist of her pants, and she understood what their intentions were.
The man grinned as he began to lean into her, but before she could even cry out, she felt his weight disappear. She found herself lost for a moment, only to realise that the man had not vanished, but instead had been sent head first into the far war, his brain matter adding yet another stain to the now cracked stone. The scent of urine reached her nose, and she realized idly that the smaller man had pissed himself.
"Mademoiselle, you must be more aware of your surroundings. The men here are not like the men back in France." The white haired man was standing now, his eyes fierce and his hand stretched out as though to ward something away. His voice and sickly appearance apparently restored what confidence the smaller rapist had, and he rushed the male foreigner with his knife drawn. However, before he could reach him, he found himself feeling weak, a horrible pain welling in his chest. It was hard to breath...as though he were drowning, but not in water, in something thicker. Then the blonde woman withdrew her rapier, and the man collapsed upon the ground. Her companion watched her with interest as the thin blade vanished in motes of light.
The man gave the blonde a wary look. "I do not think you gave me your name, mademoiselle."
The woman tilted her head to the side, a curious expression on her face as one of her would-be rapists convulsed on the floor. "I am le Chevalier d'Eon." The woman smiled brightly at her companion, her chin lifting and her hips cocking to one side. "A servant to the country of France, and also a Servant. In short, I am a hero, just like you, Monsieur Dantes."
The white haired man grimaced, but he quickly schooled his features and corrected his posture. Though he held some contempt for that name, he would not lash out like some sort of uncivilized ruffian. "Though you are correct in your assumption that I am The Count of Monte Cristo, I am not Edmond Dantes. Who that man was, and who I am now is not the same, and I will have to respectfully request that you do not refer to me as though I were him."
d'Eon's smile melted into a pensive frown, her eyes blinking as she turned the words over in her head. Finally she smiled. "Oui, I shall honor this request then, Monsieur Cristo." The man rose an eyebrow at the pseudonym, but raised no objections to it. "I have come to you for assistance. The country of France is in grave peril, monsieur, and I fear that no single Servant alone can save it."
"France…" The man would be lying if he said he did not miss the country at time, but it was not his home, and it had become stained with many a poor memory. "I hold no love for the people of France. For what purpose would I help people who have nothing to do with me?"
The blonde's eyes narrowed. "Monsieur, be mindful of what you say. Surely you cannot be so callous as to condemn so many people; to abandon your duties as a hero?"
The man scoffed. "Hero? I am no hero, or do you not know? I did not act out of any sort of heroic idealism. I acted out of hate and disgust. I saved no lives, mademoiselle. Do you know what I did?" He halted for a moment, staring into her bright blue eyes with his own vacant red orbs. "I dragged them to hell, mademoiselle. I dragged them kicking and screaming into the fiery pits where they would face everlasting torture. I did it because I hated them, and because I wanted revenge. Revenge fueled me then, spurred me into action. Tell me, mademoiselle, what is there to motivate me now?"
The chevalier was glaring at him now. It was an expression that he did not think suited her face, but it was also an expression that, as an Avenger, he felt was more than suited for being directed at him. "I understand that you hold no loyalty to France, but I had thought compassion would be enough to 'spur you on' as you say." Then a remarkable thing happened. Her expression shifted from a glare to a look of pity. "Has your past really poisoned your heart so? Or is it your mind that has been poisoned?" She cast a glance at the number of empty medicine and alcohol bottles scattered around the floor.
The man narrowed his eyes. "Compassion? Non. I have no compassion for man. They are nothing but pigs, filled with greed and with care only for themselves. My compassion would be wasted on them. They are only deserving of my hate."
d'Eon cast a long look at the man. "I see then. I came here hoping to find the great Count of Monte Cristo, but instead I found only a man. A poor man lost in his his own head and with care only for himself. Forgive me, monsieur. I am afraid that I mistook you for someone else." The woman gave a curt nod of her head, her face set in a neutral expression, and politely bowed out of the room.
The white haired man frowned as he laid himself back on the ground, lifting a bottle to drink whatever small drops were left at the bottom of it. As he did he tried to ignore the beating of his heart and the burning behind his eyes.
He could not.
Le Chevalier hid her disappointment well. As one who was a spy for France in her life, it was only natural that no emotion rose to the surface of her countenance without her willing it to. Even so, she knew that her low spirits had made her journey to the harbor even longer than it otherwise would have been. She thanked her good sense of direction as she arrived at the ship, however. She did not think she could stand to be in Cairo any longer than she had to. Nothing but a city of beggars and ruffians, and she could tolerate having to bear witness to the horrible things they did in plain sight. She quickly came to the conclusion that this was why Edmond Dantes chose to come here. What better place for a hateful person to rest than a city that reaffirms all of his beliefs?
The docks were just as busy as the rest of the city, though the hustle and bustle was more purposeful than what one would find on the streets. Men unloaded and loaded various supplies off and onto the numerous varied ships, sailors huddled together with glasses of alcohol celebrating a successful journey, and shady bureaucrats took "donations" as they let through contraband. It was a small improvement from the state of the rest of the city, d'Eon found, but even so she found herself with no desire to stay any longer than need be.
After a time she found herself before a great ship. What was once a merchant's frigate had been refitting with various armaments and improvements, among them being the addition of forty cannons. It was an older design compared to most of the ships, having first been launched nearly two centuries previous, but it was much more than a mortal vessel.
In front of the ship was the slouched form of the ship's captain. At his full height he stood at near seven feet tall, his form, clad in a double breasted long coat that reach his ankles worn open with no shirt beneath and his loose trousers held up by chains, seemed intimidating and dangerous. The chevalier's eyes found their way to the flintlock pistols holstered at his side and the hooked blade holstered to his wrist. He was most certainly a dangerous man, and one she would not normally be willing to keep the company of (and not just because he was English), however, after having gotten to know that man she could not bring herself to consider him intimidating. Because, despite his tall frame and ominous dress…
"Ah! The beautiful angel that lights my life has returned!" He leapt at her, arms outstretched to embrace her. The blonde chevalier stepped aside, allowing him to dive face first into the wooden docks.
...this man was an idiot.
"Dammit, woman! The old sailor tends to his ship, weary from a long travel, only to be surprised by his young sweet wife's appearance. It was a beautifully romantic moment, and you have gone and ruined it!" The man sat cross legged on the floor, his muscular arms crossed over his chest as he pouted, his pursed lips standing out amongst his black beard. His hair stuck up at odd ends now, having fallen out of its, admittedly still messy, brushed back style after his fall.
"There is much that is wrong with what you have said, Monsieur Teach." le Chevalier spoke, managing to retain a professional air about her despite her growing exasperation.
"Aye." Edward Teach grunted in affirmation. "You are far from sweet, despite your appearance. You are a wicked woman in the guise of a beautiful girl. Bah, truly despicable."
"...I cannot help but feel we are not truly in agreement."
Murmurs began to surround them as more and more people found their attention drawn to the child in an adult man's body. d'Eon felt the urge to hide her face behind her hands, but decided that doing so would only damage her dignity more. "Monsieur Teach, we must be going now. We still have another gentleman to meet with."
The captain perked up at that. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. "Oh? Where is the lad you came to get from here then? Does he have his own boat. Is he a captain as well! I will not abide by this insult! I am the only captain you need, dear, and no ship is a greater ship than my own. Bwahahahaha!" The man broke into deep guffaws, his hands clasping at his stomach as it rocked with his joy.
Le Chevalier sighed. "Monsieur Dantes was not here. It seems we were mistaken."
The man stopped. "Eh? But smarty pants seemed so sure he was here."
"Well he was not. Now it is best we depart quickly. I do not wish to remain in this city any longer than I must." And with that she strode away, walking up the gangplank with long strides.
Edward Teach, the legendary Blackbeard, scratched at his cheek in confusion. "...but he seemed so sure…"
After a moment he stood up and walked towards Queen Anne's Revenge at a leisurely pace. "Oi! Men! We be setting off! Time to abandon this shit stain of a port and make our way home! Next stop: London! Bwahahahaha!"
Seven Days Later, London
The nights of London were dark and dangerous. Though London may present itself as the center of civilization during the day, at night it transformed into a nest of filth where desperate men and women did whatever they could to survive. But recently London's night had been taken over, and now even those desperate people were wary of the moonlit underbelly of the city.There was a killer on the loose.
Several dozen men and women, muggers and prostitutes, killed in only two short months. Bodies torn apart as though by a wild animal with faces twisted into everlasting expressions of terror. A monster roamed the streets of London. A monster that could not be caught, so they said. When d'Eon heard these tales she knew that this was more than just a normal killer. This was a threat beyond humanity.
Edward Teach let out a low burp as he took a swig of his gin. "Why are we here again?"
d'Eon suppressed a groan. "You heard the same stories as I, Monsieur Teach. This killer, this beast, must be more than a mere human killer. Non. This must be another like us. A Heroic Spirit, but one that is more monster than hero."
"And we are hunting this Heroic Spirit why? Not that I wouldn't enjoy a good brawl…" He took another drink from his flask. "But isn't our job here to find that lad the boss wants us to find?"
"Well, yes, but I cannot sit idly by while this monster roams the streets. Besides, as of right now we have no leads on this man we have been told to find."
"Well, I suppose it is worth it to see you all dressed up like this." Edward Teach grinned lecherously as he looked her up and down. d'Eon was dressed in a tight corset and a blouse which showed off her shoulders and the top of her admittedly rather flat breasts, though they had been subtly padded to make them look somewhat more apparent. Her skirt was made with layered fabrics which fell such to show off her ankles and boot clad feet. Her face was done up with layers of makeup and her hair was styled up with her bangs falling down to frame her face.
The woman blushed furiously. "Avert your eyes you disgusting pervert." She swung her fist at the man, but he jumped out of reach as he laughed. "I am not wearing this for your benefit; I am doing this to draw out the monster!"
"Aye, aye, I know. Do not get your knickers in a twist."
Le Chevalier took a few steadying breaths to calm herself. "Get into position, Monsieur Teach."
"Aye aye."
Blackbeard leaned against a wall at the opposite side of the street in an alley, hidden in the shadows as he watched his partner make a display of herself underneath a street lamp. It had been at least an hour, and nothing had happened yet. Worse yet, he was out of gin!
He took a look at the surrounding area. Empty. No one wanted to come out with this monster on the loose, and if the monster was indeed a Heroic Spirit he doubted this optimistic plan would work to draw them out. As such, surely it wouldn't be all that bad of him to go find himself some more drink, right? Chuckling to himself, Blackbeard slinked away out of sight.
It was long after he lost sight of his partner that he happened across a pub that was still open. Grinning, he strode in with long heavy steps. Pushing the door open, he shouted out in greeting. "BWAHAHA! Good evening, lads! One bottle of gin! No, TWO bottles of gin! BWAHAHA!"
There was no response. Teach creased his brow and stepped further into the pub, suddenly on guard. "Hello? Gin? Rum? Do you have it?" Though perhaps his priorities weren't quite right.
Finally reaching the bar, and seeing nothing of notice, he relaxed. "Well, it would be bad to just leave all this drink here where anyone could take it." Grinning, he lept over the bar to grab the bottles of alcohol, only to hear a wet squelch as his boots hit the ground. Looking down, he found himself standing in a pool of blood, a number of men torn apart and laid behind the bar, expressions of fear on their faces.
Then he heard growling.
Turning around he found himself faced with a snarling maw filled with sharp canines that were each the size of his fist. Drool dripped onto the floor as the beast stared at him with glowing red eyes. A single wolfish paw rose and fell onto the bar, crushing it under its weight. Blackbeard stared at the giant monster in shock.
"...crap."
The French spy smiled prettily as she made herself appealing from her position. There did not seem to be anyone around to see her - except Edward Teach, who was no doubt watching from the shadows with a stupid grin on his face - but she did not desire to give the monster any hint of her plan. The culprit must be much more than just a simple beast to have gone unnoticed for so long. Well, not unnoticed, but it had to at least be intelligent enough to not be seen by witnesses. Not by living ones at least.
Though, the French spy was beginning to have some doubts about her plan. London was a large city, and even with the serial killer about, there were no doubt plenty of desperate ladies of the night walking about. Plenty of victims for the beast to feast on. What were the chances that she would be the one it would target?
Perhaps it would have been wiser to act as the hunter than the prey, but where to start? The monstrous Heroic Spirit had not been so foolish as to keep to a set, routine territory. Or perhaps the Heroic Spirit simply lacked the sanity to even consider such a thing. As a result of this unpredictability, d'Eon and Blackbeard could not properly set up an ambush of any sort, and as such had but two options. Search the city for signs of a killer that may not even be active that night, leaving them tired, unprepared, and likely in unfamiliar territory, or choose the battlefield and attempt to draw the monster out. Neither option was perfect, and despite the inherent dangers of the former action, the chevalier was beginning to wonder if they had chosen wrong.
The agent let out a sigh, relaxing into a more comfortable posture as she turned towards the spot where she and her partner had agreed the pirate should hide. "I am afraid our hunt will not be bearing much fruit, Monsieur Teach. It may be best to take a more proactive approach."
"Oh, and what are you hunting, little tart?"
The French chevalier felt a shiver rise up her spine as prana filled the air. The Heroic Spirits summoned all over the world lacked the sheer massive prana consumption and force that would normally be expected, and as such it was much harder to notice the average Servant if they were not using their abilities. But once they truly began to use their power they would shine like beacons, exhaling prana like a billowing cloud from a steam engine.
She turned on her heel to face the new arrival.
The man stood hunched over, his gloved hands shoved into the pockets of his dress pants held up by suspenders over a white dress shirt, a black coat hanging off his shoulders. He looked ordinary, if somewhat disheveled, his blonde hair a crow's nest that stuck up at odd ends and his clothing wrinkled. His eyes, however, revealed his deeper nature. Red wine colored orbs with dilated pupils set in contrast to dark, almost bruise like skin that spoke of little sleep. His gaze roved across her figure, settling at the curve of her waist and his mouth stretch into a canine like grin, rabid and full of teeth.
The chevalier did not respond to the blonde man's question, instead leaping back towards the spot where Edward Teach lay in wait. Upon touching down on the ground, she turned her head slightly, only to see out of the corner of her eye a vacant space occupied only by a few empty bottles. She grit her teeth.
Damn that useless man.
"Oi, where do you think you're going?"
The blonde man leapt at her, a clenched fist raised in the air as he descended on her location. Cursing the pirate once more under her breath, d'Eon rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the man's fist as it came crashing into the ground, breaking stone and sending pieces of debris flying in all directions. As she came to her feet, the slim woman materialized her rapier in her hand, falling into a familiar fencing stance before lunging forward, seeking to skewer the man on the tip of her blade.
The man was fast, however, and side hopped out of the path of her jab, slapping the blade down into the ground as he did so. He raised a leg to trap the blade in place, but d'Eon was already moving, turning her body out of her lung and swinging the blade away from her foe, only for it to come back around towards him from behind. The unnamed Servant cursed as a thin line was cut into his cheek, him being unable to react fast enough to the new attack.
Recognizing her foe's relative inexperience, d'Eon pressed her advantage, curling her body in on itself and lunging again at a close range, faster and with more power. The man, outraged by his injury, swore as he too stepped forward, a fist flying over the chevalier's head, her body now lower than it had been just a second before. Her rapier pierced the man's leg, and she pulled on the blade to prepare for her next attack, only to find it stuck in place.
The man scowled at her, face twisted into the snarling countenance of a beast, as he stiffened his leg, the muscles within contracted such as to trap the blade in place. "You bloody whore. I'll tear of your god damned head for that." His hands shot forward, each wrapping around her skull and he pulled. The chevalier let out a startled gasp as she felt her neck crack and pop and her vision darkened and grew unfocused.
She lifted a knee, pressing it into the mad man's crotch, and he let go in surprise from the sudden strike. Finally able to pull her blade free, the French agent brought it up in a swift slash which cut across her opponent's chest and left his white shirt stained red.
d'Eon rallied herself as her vision came back to her. "This is for all those people you've killed in your madness!"
"What!?" The man looked incredulous at the proclamation. "I've only been out just a few hours, you tart! I haven't the time to do shit yet!"
The french agent shook her head. "I will not believe you lies. Now quit your pleading and ac-"
Her rant was cut off by the shout of the man she had grown to despise so much.
"Lass! I found your monster!" Blackbeard came running onto the scene, his knees shooting up into the air as he dashed and at least a dozen bottles of various alcoholic beverages held in his arms.
"Monsieur! What is this!? Did you really abandon me for rum?"
"That is besides the point, lass!"
A shade came howling out of the darkness, white blue fur shining in the moonlight like a spectre of the night. It was upon the fleeing pirate in a second, catching him in its massive jaws and lifting him into the air, sword like teeth digging into the man's arms as he cried out, his precious drinks falling to the ground and shattering below. The beast tossed the man aside, and lifted its head in a howl.
The chevalier stared in shock. The beast was a wolf, though far larger than any she had ever seen. It was the size of the largest stallions she had ever seen, and its eyes observed her as they lowered, studying her with the air of cool calculation she had only seen in the most ruthless of leaders. Mounted on the monster's back was a man, or at least most of one. He wore black leather, garbed like a wicked hunter of the night, his shoulders adorned by a billowing red cape. One hand clutched at the fur on the back of the wolf's neck, while the other raised a curved blade above his neck. Not his head. He had no head.
The blue eyed chevalier looked at her former opponent, and found his eyes fixed on her with the same flabbergasted expression that she herself must have worn. Then, as one, they turned towards the monster, both suddenly aware of the danger of the situation. They were both tired and injured, to differing degrees. This beast could cut either of them down if they fought it alone and would no doubt give chase for the other.
"I am Mademoiselle d'Eon, the Chevalier."
The man snorted beside her. "Right. Name's Hyde."
She nodded. "I am afraid we will have to work together if we have any hope of slaying this beast."
"Lovely."
From the wolf's spot beneath Hessian, Lobo growled in challenge.
Firstly, I apologize for what was probably pretty bad French on my part, even if it was not very pervasive.
Secondly, I'd love to hear all of your thoughts. This has been something I've been outlining and preparing to write for a while, and I'm excited to finally get it down and out there. Thank you all for your time, and I hope you enjoyed my work.
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- Location
- On a Journey Through The Decade
I'm not sure why, but reading this gave me the giggles.
Altria_Pendragon
(Verified - SG-i13 Rhongomyniad)
- Location
- World's End Pillar
A note - the Hessian is the Headless Horseman. Lobo is the mount/the giant doge/the King of Currumpaw. Dual summon like Artemis/Orion or the yuri pirates.
FacelessDoll
A genetic error
- Location
- New York, New York
...I'm not sure what to make of this. Did you post on the wrong thread? ...somehow?
...isn't there a "you posted on the wrong thread/board/etc." meme somewhere?
FacelessDoll
A genetic error
- Location
- New York, New York
Oh my gods, hahaha, I completely missed those implications. That is amazing. Okay, I take back everything I've said about you both on this thread and elsewhere. You are a cool guy Mr. Monshroud!
I hope I didn't make that bad an impression at first, but thank you!
At any rate, it does make perfect sense that Mary Poppins is Shekhinah/Binah/Sophia, the feminine personification of God.
After all, no mere witch could possibly be "Practically Perfect in Every Way".
Nurse Matilda/Nanny McPhee might come close, but Mary came first! ...in terms both literal and literary.
Hopefully in this story, the Antichrist version of Harry is more of an "Alter" form of him, rather than the actual Boy-Who-Lived.
HARRY: ....Why does "Evil-Me" have so many eyes?
FacelessDoll
A genetic error
- Location
- New York, New York
Haha, well, at least right now I have no plans to cross over with Harry Potter and Mary Poppins, though I'm sure finding sufficient stand ins wouldn't be too difficult. Regardless, the time period isn't right for it. A century too early, though, of course, given all the BS that exists in Nasuverse who knows.
...though an omake of Harry meeting Alter!Harry wouldn't be outside the realm of possibilities.
all fictions
I hate you! (it's not against the rules!)
- Location
- Mons Regius
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I had a similar plot bunny, but with the actual characters instead of as Servants, so I'm glad someone went ahead and wrote this crossover instead of my lazy ass.
It doesn't seem like it will be full of countless literary references, commentary of Victorian society, and Moore's intense dislike of spies, but it seems like it will be a fun and interesting ride regardless.
Your French is fine, if a bit unpolished. As said before, Hessian Lobo is the name of two (three) Phantoms combined, the Hessian/Headless Horseman and Lobo of Currumpaw. So it should really just be Lobo if it's just the wolf (though I'm curious how you will explain his appearance as a Servant).
Also, I find the use of "Chevalier" in the narration as if it's her name awkward. It's her title and status, so outside of people adressing her by her rank out of respect, it doesn't really work as a name. Since I doubt you want to write "Charles-Geneviève-Louis-Auguste-André-Timothée" as her first name everytime, both the game and historians in real life just calls her by her surname, d'Éon (like D'Artagnan in the Musketeers).
Also also:
It doesn't seem like it will be full of countless literary references, commentary of Victorian society, and Moore's intense dislike of spies, but it seems like it will be a fun and interesting ride regardless.
Your French is fine, if a bit unpolished. As said before, Hessian Lobo is the name of two (three) Phantoms combined, the Hessian/Headless Horseman and Lobo of Currumpaw. So it should really just be Lobo if it's just the wolf (though I'm curious how you will explain his appearance as a Servant).
Also, I find the use of "Chevalier" in the narration as if it's her name awkward. It's her title and status, so outside of people adressing her by her rank out of respect, it doesn't really work as a name. Since I doubt you want to write "Charles-Geneviève-Louis-Auguste-André-Timothée" as her first name everytime, both the game and historians in real life just calls her by her surname, d'Éon (like D'Artagnan in the Musketeers).
Also also:
Here she should call herself "the Chevalier d'Éon" or, if you want to make it more fancy, "le Chevalier d'Éon".
Let's pretend this doesn't exist and that Moore didn't just waste interesting plot ideas to make it all about his dislike of modern pop culture. Hopefully The Tempest might be somewhat enjoyable.
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- Location
- Vietnam
At least Nemo got a kickass storylines, although we already got one Captain here.
Also the Count will totally arrive in a dramatic moment later right?
FacelessDoll
A genetic error
- Location
- New York, New York
Ah, you are right. That is pretty awkward now that I put some more thought into it. Originally I had planned for the story to be told from the explicit point of view of certain servants, with a few of them getting confused by her/his introduction and mistakenly believing her/his name to be Chevalier, but I scrapped that idea early on due to it just being too convoluted. It seems that I fell into a bad habit and that held over. Damn. I will be editing that later tonight. Thank you.
Oh trust me, I am aware of this. I am very much aware of this. Lobo's double/triple summoning is what originally inspired this idea. In my head that line about "Hessian Lobo" growling in challenge was meant to be an epic name drop, but I see now that it looks rather dumb when read in context of the two being separate entities. I'll finagle with the sentence a bit when I edit the chapter tonight.
EDIT: Hopefully that all reads alright
The next chapter, provided that the universe stays off my back, should be up this weekend. Thank you all for the feedback!
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FacelessDoll
A genetic error
- Location
- New York, New York
Remember when I said I'd have the next chapter up this weekend if the universe stayed off my back? Well guess what I'm currently giving the worst piggyback ride ever to. I'm not going to get into everything that has happened the last few days, this really isn't the place for it, but I just wanted to quickly apologize and let you all know what is going on. The chapter is close to completion, but I haven't been able to devote the time needed to get it in to an at least somewhat acceptable state. My apologies.