Location: Outside the
Twelve Daggers Tavern – Port of Tortuga
Sirena desperately tried to keep Mr. Alucard in her sights, but the man clearly had no intention of stopping to have a little chat with her. Either he was seriously late for a meeting, or he was hiding something. What other reasons would he have? With the thick crowds and having a little girl in tow working against her, the man managed to slip away.
"Dammit," she hissed in frustration. She vowed that one day she would get the answers she so desired from him. She would have him answer for the mess he's made of people's lives. One day.
Her attention went back to the little girl as she began to cry. Sirena was kind of at a loss here. She didn't have it in her to just leave this defenseless girl alone, in Tortuga of all places. Yes, she was a pirate. Yes, she has scammed men for a living. But that did not mean she was heartless. And yet, the life of a pirate was not the life for a child. Granted, Harlianne herself had been raised into the life of piracy and had lived to tell the tale. But this mission was proving to be more dangerous than she had anticipated.
Sirena let out a sigh. She was about to kneel down again to talk to the little girl, but just then the girl pointed out a strange sight. There was a woman wildly running into the marshes barefoot. Sirena's brows furrowed slightly. Maybe the woman was in danger. Or maybe the woman was just deranged. Well, whatever the case, Sirena did not have the desire to go after the woman. It was not lost on her that she needed to get back to the ship. She may not have any new recruits to bring along with her, but at least she had more information that was pertinent to their mission. She looked down at the little girl. She may just have to bring the girl with her, unless of course the girl had other family nearby.
Sirena led the little girl out of the crowds before kneeling down to talk to her.
"¿Tienes algún otro familiar que viva cerca?" she asked softly.
"Mi nombre es Sirena, por cierto. ¿Cuál es tu nombre?"
The messenger's demeanor gave it away that Edgard was about to receive anything but good news. It was like a shadow had been cast upon Edgard, as one could see his mood darkening tenfold. A storm was brewing in his deep blue eyes. A storm that promised to bring utter devastation in its wake. His breathing came in and out more sharply, and his jaw was clenched so tightly that it caused veins to bulge from his forehead. Alisanne was the only person he cared for in this life; everyone else, including his own family, could go to hell for all he cared. So, this dreadful news struck a chord with him. Without Alisanne, what did he have? She was the reason he was here after all. Well, if he couldn't have happiness, then
no one could. He fell back on one of the only other things that had ever brought him an inkling of pleasure: inflicting pain upon others.
Edgard inevitably snapped. And it happened all so fast, like a snake suddenly striking out at its prey. In an instant he lunged forward with a feral growl, and his hands wrapped around the messenger's throat. He drove the man backwards, slamming him into the nearest post. The man clawed desperately at Edgard's hands, trying to fight for breath. Edgard's face was contorted in pure rage, and his bloodthirst was at an alltime high. He could imagine how easy it would be to kill this man with his bare hands. But that would be a weak atonement for what was done to Alisanne. No, someone had to suffer,
slowly and
painfully. The messenger may still prove useful. While others may doubt that Alisanne was still alive, he knew she wouldn't be that easy to kill. She was too ruthless and cunning. She was still out there, somewhere, fighting for her life.
After a few agonizing moments, he finally removed his hands from the man's throat. The man immediately bent over, coughing and wheezing to regain his breath. Edgard didn't give the man much time to recover before tormenting him a little more. He unsheathed his cutlass in one fluid move and then rested the sharp tip on the man's chest. The frightened messenger really had nowhere to run, as he backed up into the post with wide fear filled eyes. He knew that Edgard would be upset by Alisanne's disappearance, but not like this.
"Tell me all that you know, NOW!!!" Edgard shouted. The messenger's mouth opened and closed, seemingly struggling to form words as he was scared to death. He shook from head to toe with fear. Edgard let out an annoyed growl. He slashed his blade across the man's chest, tearing through fabric and cutting the skin. It was not enough to cause a grievous injury, but it certainly served as a painful warning.
"SPEAK!!" Edgard yelled.
"M-margot was found dead in her bed. S-she had bruising around her neck, but it was likely poison that had killed her--" the messenger began before being rudely interrupted by Edgard.
"What of Alisanne?!!" he spat.
"A-alisanne's room was immediately checked, seeing as the sisters were close. B-but she wasn't anywhere to be found, and there was evidence of a struggle in her room. Her bed was covered in blood, and there was a crushed bottle of what appeared to be cyanide laying on the ground. I-I was immediately dispatched to inform you of this, but it took around a month of travel time to get to you," the messenger rambled on in an almost pleading like tone.
Edgard felt his blood run cold, and his heart clench in his chest. What was this emotion running through him? Sadness? Concern? Fear? It was all foreign to him. His enraged features wavered some, but other than that it was hard to decipher exactly what was going through his head right now. He was definitely giving mixed signals, as he lowered the cutlass that was at the messenger's chest.
"Is that all you know?" Edgard asked through gritted teeth.
"Yes, yes! That is all I know!" the messenger basically cried out.
"Then you are useless to me now," Edgard snarled. Before the messenger could hardly react, Edgard brought his cutlass up, and in one swift move slit the man's throat. The man subsequently crumbled to the ground, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The man bled out onto the floor of the tavern as Edgard looked down at him. There was no sign of remorse in his demeanor. For he was the Baron of Blood and Fire, the Destroyer of the Weak.
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