Misbegotten, Misunderstood and Misadventurous

[The Love Ballad]

Mag held the bundle to his head, the cloth wrapped ice doing what little it could to soothe the bruise swiftly developing above his right eye. Off-coloured moans and gruff remarks constantly escaped from under the wounded man's breath, occasionally drawing the ire of the other patrons of the chairlift. The small open-air lobby filled with a settlers, and the odd smattering of tourists who had travelled to this far flung island in the North. A scant few shared a similar accent to Mag's own causing him no small shock. It had truly been too long since he had come back to the North Blue. 

Naturally, the first thing he had done upon returning to his native sea was get into a far too violent, far too drunken brawl. Where it had occurred he could not recall, although he was all but certain it had taken place on a ship of some kind. A merchant ferry perhaps? Most of the past few days had descended into a blur. Truthfully, most of the past few years had collapsed into more than just a blur, but a veritable mess of memories and alcohol induced brain damage.

Where once he had been a man, albeit a scoundrel, years of misbegotten adventures and alcohol had seen him all but descend into creaturehood. That was the figure that now found himself perched on the bench in the heart of New Naso City, the steam engine that powered the chairlift that he had huddled beside whirring and causing incessant pain to his already throbbing head. The whisky from the night before, combined with the punch he'd copped to the skull that morning, already putting him in such a way that there was little he could do to prevent the non-stop throbbing of his brain.

His eyes were closed, and his mind was focused entirely on trying to ignore the sounds of the crowd, the engine and the roar inside his head. Yet, even with hid dedicated efforts, he could not ignore the sound of the ruffians that seemed to have chosen to gather. He knew the type from their voices alone. After all, he had been one of them in his youth. Boys scarcely out of their teenage years, riled up on bravado and chemicals.

Their roars of laughter were only interrupted by their constant attempts at baiting a reaction out of the citizens of the city. Men and women merely attempting to go about their business, doing their best to avoid the would-be troublemakers.

Had it been any other day, Mag would have been more than content to wallow in his stupor and allow them to continue with their haphazard attempts at getting a rise out of the people they continued to harass. But, with his piercing headache and general weariness that afternoon, he figured it was probably for the best, if he made his way from the city centre and back toward his lodgings.

Who knows, maybe he would even be able to find a vessel to stowaway on once more. Truly, the possibilities were endless.

[Fox]

Dughall was terrified. Usually, Tenebrae dropped him off somewhere isolated and safe. The last thing that Dughall remembered was being accosted by a group of thuggish looking guys in the middle of the woods. The next thing he knew, he was in the middle of a big city all on his own. Probably on a different island. Tenebrae at least had the decency to drop him off in a deserted alley, but just outside, there were crowds and people and all sorts of other obstacles. Given that he’d just gone to sleep, it was unlikely that Tenebrae would be rescuing him from this situation.

Not wanting to wait around, Dughall pulled his hood up over his patchwork face. His horns still poked out, but there was nothing that he could do about that. He tentatively stepped out onto the street, a veritable giant compared to normal people. He could feel their gazes on him like burning irons.

As he shuffled through the street lost and aimless, Dughall spotted a strange contraption that looked like a chair that rose into the sky. He had never seen anything like it before. Maybe it was the way out of the city? He waddled toward it, unaware of the group of young men trying to provoke those who drew near. Like always, Dughall was a big target. They spotted him and soon swarmed him.

“Whoa! Look at the freak!”

Dughall recoiled, holding up his bandaged hands to pacify them. It didn’t work. They jeered at him and poked at him. Dughall held his hands in front of his face and curled up weakly. He didn’t want any trouble, but trouble somehow always found its way to him. He couldn’t deal with these sorts of situations very well. He felt some minor irritation from Tenebrae, but his other half didn’t come to save him. The reaction was more like someone rolling over to go back to sleep.

“I-I don’t want t-trouble… Please…” Dughall said softly. This only riled the boys up more. They spread out and pointed at him.

“Hey, freak, what are you doin’ in our town?”

“Yeah! Go back to the gutter you crawled out of!”

“Everyone look! Hahahaha!”

---

Dughall | Dark Seagreen (#8FBC8B) | Post Count: 1
Tenebrae | Black (#000000)

[The Love Ballad]

Mag forced himself to his feet, using his free hand to push against his thigh in a half-hearted attempt to gain extra leverage. The movement was slow, the uncomfortable feeling in his shoulders mixing with the pained fog in his forehead to create a veritable mess of feelings. He blinked a couple of times, hoping that the tokenistic effort would be enough to shake the sensation. Of course, it wasn't, but it was near enough to normal that he felt he could function.

With strides that masked his growing discomfort, instead advertising a sort of false bravado, he turned away from the chairlift, looking to begin his trek back into the heart of the city. What greeted him was not the visage that we was expecting. Where the group of youths had earlier been content to cat-call and make crude comments far too loud, it appeared that they had stepped up their level of annoyance to such a degree that they were actually in the process of assaulting someone in the street. Perhaps assault was too strong a term, but regardless the poor figure they had elected to set their sights upon was surrounded on all sides.

Mag halted his plans to step forward, instead cocking his head to the side inquisitively.

The delinquent had called attention to the man, calling him a freak. Truthfully, the term was not entirely inaccurate, he was hooded and bandaged, but the horns that peaked out from his head were still entirely visible. Such a creature was entirely rare outside of the Grand Line, and it seemed that the boys were egging each other on to harass them, probably as a way to prove their bravado to one another. Mag had acted similarly with the marine apprentices that had come ashore back home in his own youth, so he understood where they were coming from.

Still, he couldn't help but feel annoyance. For one, they were being ridiculously loud, and his head was absolutely throbbing. Second, the creature, or man, or fishman, or whatever it may be, was not putting up any sort of fight back. There was no sport in it, the poor thing looked defenseless, stuttering with its hands-up. By the heavens, it even looked somewhat pathetic in spite of its size and horns, acting more akin to a child than a fearsome beast.

"Fekin' idiots," The words escaped from under his breath, unfiltered and far too loud.

It appeared that they also travelled to the group of ruffians, as one of them turned to face the disheveled pirate, dilated pupils showing evidence of rage and some sort of drug.

"You got a problem, geezer?" He practically spat.

The sound that escaped from Mag's lips was more parts groan than it was a sigh, why on Earth had he managed to get himself into yet another situation that didn't concern him? His association with the various colourful characters in these port towns was swiftly getting him into trouble. He was exasperated, and he could tell by the looks he was now getting from both the crowd and the youths that he had been drawn into yet another mess.

"Look, kid," He started, giving the fellow a leer, "ye're bein' a pain, no one is impressed. Jus' stop making so much damned noise and let the big guy go, ye'? Oi can't be fek'd to deal with this shite."

As he spoke, he became deathly aware of the fact that all he was achieving was making the situation worse and further embroiling himself in it. Why did he have to be so bloody stupid?

[Fox]

Dughall was entirely at a loss. People scared him, and he didn’t do well in crowds. He shrunk away as the boys drew near, flinching if they even so much as pointed a finger at him. Somehow, despite his size, Dughall managed to look small in the ring of teenagers. The indifference and judgemental stares of adults passing by only further incentivize the boys to greater antagonism. Dughall’s reaction was boring. And they’d goad more out of him whether he wanted it or not. One scooped up a rock from the ground when one of the other teens barked at a new target.

They all turned to look, which meant that they were looking away from Dughall. It was a small mercy, but he wouldn’t be comfortable until he was far away from this city and its people. Sky blue meek eyes looked over at the one person who interfered on his behalf. He looked old, grizzled, and scary. But...he had stepped in on his behalf, right? That meant maybe he was nice? Dughall at least saw it as an offer of protection.

Dughall slipped past the kids while they were distracted, managing to get to the kind stranger and hide behind them. Seeing Dughall’s pathetic display, one clicked their tongue and grunted. Most of them seemed to realize that there was no sport in messing with the freakish baby cowering behind the man. The man himself… looked a little too grizzled to mess with. Plus, the sight of his gun wasn’t lost on them.

They turned away, mumbling lame excuses to each other and hurling insults at the odd pair. The one that had picked up the rock took a shot at Dughall, hitting him spare on the head and making him yelp. The boys cheered and scurried away before they got into trouble with the grizzled guy or the law. Dughall held his forehead, blood dripping down from where the rock had cut him.

“A-a-ah…”

His voice was small and meek, still hanging onto the high pitched timber of youth. He looked to the man who had helped him with grateful puppy dog eyes.

“Th-th-tha…”

---

Dughall | Dark Seagreen (#8FBC8B) | Post Count: 2
Tenebrae | Black (#000000)

[The Love Ballad]

It seemed that Mag's interjection, albeit one that he was reluctant to make, had caused the beaten-down fellow to view him as some sort of protector. Or at least a good samaritan. The tall man slipped away from the gang of youths attempting to garner some sort of sport out of harassing him, and all but tucked himself away behind the thuggish looking pirate. In spite of his size and terrifying visage, the man seemed to act more akin to a puppy or a small child than anything else. To contrast, Mag with his partially dread-locked hair and swollen face was the more intimidating by virtue of posture alone, in spit of his smaller size.

That realisation seemed to tick over the boys, who failing to see the sport in continuing with their game contented themselves to slinking off. Insults and false bravado filled the air as they did so, but Mag knew that their pride had been irreparably damaged. It was good for them. Young fools needed to learn they were not invincible, and they definitely needed to learn when and with whom it was appropriate to pick fights. This particular occasion, they had made the right call. Of course, that meant that they would lick their wounds and do something even stupider in the coming nights in order to save face with one-another. But, Mag had no intention of remaining upon this island for the foreseeable future, and thus such an occurrence would be entirely someone else's problem.

As he watched the lads move off, no doubt to some sort of bar or dark alley where they could drink even more than they could at a licensed establishment, Mag was suddenly surprised to hear the voice of the fellow behind him. He turned his head over his shoulder, sure to keep the ice tight on his bruised forehead.

The voice was soft and weak, with a tone and pitch that reminded him more of a child than any of the teenagers he'd just seen off. Once more, he found himself surprised by the dichotomy of the odd fellow, a creature on the outside, but a child on the inside. He was struggling to get the words out, although the older man was able to discern the start of a 'thank you.'

Were Mag a softer man, he'd admit to the twangs of pity that shot through his chest at the sight of the boy, for that was what he was. The bandages, his innocent eyes, and inability to stand up for himself all painted a blatant picture in the mind of the elderly pirate. The child had been abused, regardless of his size, probably because of it. But Mag did not pride himself on being soft, and he forced the feelings of sadness over the mere sight of the boy down.

Shutting out his internal monologue, the pirate turned fully around now and gave a half-hearted shrug, "Don'' mention it, lad. Those lot were bein' a roight pain, someone hadda shut 'em up."

As he spoke, he became very aware of just how much attention they were drawing. Generally, either of them on their own would be the sort to garner views, but together, and in a relatively sleepy city such as this one, the average townsfolk cast wayward glances at the pair standing in the centre of the square.

Not wanting to be seen loitering for too long, Mag added, "You 'ave friends around here, lad? Oi'll take ya to 'em, ye?"

Even after he asked the question, Mag knew that the answer was likely to not be a joyous one. A lad so fearful of the world wouldn't likely thrive in social scenarios, and any friends he may claim to have, probably weren't the kindest in turn. Still, if he was wrong in that assessment, then he was sure he could finagle a bit of compensation for protecting the boy from such rough circumstances.

"Or we can grab a drink if ye' don't, probably jus' bes' tah get off the street."