Repossession (Jabal)

[Charlotte]

It was an interesting time to be in Laus. With the Marquess’ yuletide celebrations ending in disaster, the territory’s capital city was on edge, not to mention its military force on high alert so as not to be caught off guard again. Every traveller passing through the city gates came under the utmost scrutiny: no wagon, cart, or even satchel could avoid the Laus guard’s watchful eye. Even some of the businesses close to the Marquess’ castle had closed indefinitely, both the customers and the owners not wanting to risk their livelihoods being so near to the recovering castle.

Charlotte was faring as well as one could have expected after such a horrendous event. She’d had to take a day off - the first in a long time - and simply stood in one of Laus’ many squares, listening to the heralds as they listed off the names of those who’d been lost in the attack. Journal in hand, she had to scratch name after name out of her client and contact ledger, including the noble she’d attended the ball with, Lord Balsam. Usually the blonde wasn’t one to mourn or fret over death, but even that day she had to take pause. A lot of good work had been undone (though her assistance to the Marquess and his wife would likely cover that), and a lot of decent men and women had been lost.

The young woman had quickly drowned herself into her work again, though, knowing that others, just like she, would be trying to make connections with those that would be succeeding the deceased. Being a Lausian ball, most of the attendees were of Laus, so thankfully Charlotte didn’t have to deal with the new travel restrictions that had overcome the capital city. Still, the blonde had been working non-stop for at least two weeks now,and thankfully most of her efforts to reach out to the new heads of houses and appointed advisors had gone well.

Of course, though, not everyone was receptive, one of whom was actually Lord Balsam’s nephew, who had taken control of Lord Balsam’s estate after the dust had cleared. While Charlotte had a working relationship with the late lord, his nephew, a young man by the name of Darrion Balsam, was not keen on his uncle’s old business dealings. Every attempt she’d made to meet with him had been met with roadblocks, and while Charlotte was persistent, she didn’t waste her time with men that clearly weren’t interested.

However, it seemed someone was interested in the Balsam estate. Word had gotten to Charlotte through one of her informants that someone had been asking questions about a certain dragonstone that had made its way into Laus. A small part of her worried that it could have been one of Bishop Aurelian’s men finally catching up with the thing, but it just as easily could have been a rival collector looking to acquire some of Balsam’s more unique items. After all, Darrion also didn’t care for his uncle’s “junk,” as she’d heard the young man refer to his uncle’s collection in passing before.

Charlotte’s curiosity overcame her caution, though, which was why she sat in a small tavern just a mile or so away from the late lord’s estate, having arranged a meeting with the man who’d been asking questions - all through one of her informants, of course, who’d done their best to verify it wasn’t one of the bishop’s men. There were a million other things Charlotte had to attend to, but the way her woman had described the person in question, Charlotte had to see for herself that the informant wasn’t exaggerating.

It was a loud, boisterous establishment, with most of the tables full of men all deeply enjoying their mead, but the blonde sat in a back corner at a table by herself. She wore her usual crimson and gold trimmed shirt under low-cut leather vest, and brown-dyed sheepskin leggings covered her legs down to her ankles, though they were covered by a pair of brown leather traveling boots that came up to the middle of her calf. Her hair was longer now, now long enough to graze the tips of her shoulder blades, but today it was plaited in a single french braid that was tied with a piece of brown cloth. Her journal was out and open on the table in front of her as she flipped through and reviewed what looked like a slew of lists and notes.

[Jabal]

Anticipation beat within Jabal's chest like blazing wings of his fiery kin. After the waste of time that had been the Western Isles and the insufferable company of that pink haired piece of human garbage, the earth dragon finally had an actual lead: some wealthy noble's treasure horde. Jabal could wonder just why a human would need a stone designed to carry the power of a dragon, but there was no need. If nothing else, the Mountain could relate to the desire to collect. It was an urge that ran deep in the blood of dragons, and it didn't always manifest itself in a pile of gold and jewels hidden deep within some serpent's lair. In the Musenen Jabal it was common for dragons to collect souvenirs from foes overthrown. Necklaces of bone, or headdresses of skin and scales were prized by many of his kin as visible symbols of their strength. Teeth were also a popular trophy often claimed after fights between dragons. The teeth of an older dragon can grow quite long, and while a lost tooth will always grow back it takes a long time to do so. Thus taking the longest tooth of a dragon was the ultimate symbol of victory, and the longer the tooth, the greater the conquest. The most powerful dragons in the Musenen Jabal not only had the longest teeth, but the longest trophies as well.

Jabal had won a fair few fangs in his time, but his true collection, if you could even call it that, had always been land. From the island of Caledonia to western Lycia, the clanlands of the Musenen Jabal had spread wider than all but the lands of the fire dragons in the east, but where the fire dragons divided their land amongst their elders, all life in the clanlands ultimately answered to Al-Jabal, the Mountain. No single dragon upon Elibe could ever claim to have overseen as great a clandom as he had. No, that honor was his and his alone.

And yet here he was going to be neogitating with humans to get his hands on a rock that would supposedly allow him to return to his true form. It sounded like a joke, that the clan leader of the Musnen Jabal would stoop to digging through some human's curio collection to obtain his power. But that power? The full breadth of his draconic might? There was no joke there. In due time Jabal would be returned to his true self, and then the humans of Elibe would once again learn to respect the most perfect of Io's creations.

The Mountain couldn't help but smile. It was like being offered arms when his own had been cut off, like being promised a home when his own had been burnt to the ground. With that kind of carrot hanging at the end of his stick, he needed no motivation. So the dragon arrived at the designated establishment and promply squeezed his way through the swinging doors that closed off the entrance. The room was loud, but grew noticably quieter when he entered as many sets of eyes were drawn to his dominating presence. From what the contact had told him he was to meet a blonde woman here, and while the place was crowded, a blonde woman was quite easy to find. Though she had taken a distant, secluded seat off in the corner, she was the only one in this place remotely resembling a woman; blonde, fair, and exposing ample cleavage. All three things were pleasing to Jabal, at least as far as human forms went, but she was like all other human women in that she was so fragile looking. Unfortunately that seemed to be something he was going to have to accept.

"You!" he shouted over the slowly returning din. The massive dragon strode over to the woman's table and stood over her like a sentinel. His face was stern, but there was a fire behind his eyes, flames that burned at the thought of obtaining a dragonstone like that which the dragon near Ostia had spoken of. "Are you who I am looking for? I was told I needed no identification, that my appearance would be enough."

[Charlotte]

Back in the Western Isles, there was an old wives’ tale that was told to misbehaving children about malformed men as tall as mountains who would snatch up bad boys and girls from their beds in the middle of the night. The giants would take the children to their homes in the belly of the mountains, boiling them alive in great black kettles to make a terrible stew. The imagery was usually quite sickening, with the giants gnawing on the dead children’s bones and using their fingers as toothpicks. The stories had terrified a young Charlotte and her orphan companions, though it faded with time and age.

Those fears she had from the stories of her youth almost gripped Charlotte again as the hulking man stood over her, his eyes piercing through to her very core as the tavern grew quiet around them. Charlotte had stopped believing in those old wives’ tales long ago, but at the sight of such a man even she had to wonder if she was wrong to not believe. His head almost grazed the ceiling, and one of his hands looked like it could wrap clear around her head with no trouble whatsoever. Every part of him just seemed to have been built larger than life, and the blonde found herself taking pause, barely able to fathom that this was the man she was to meet.

Well, he certainly wasn’t wrong it what he or her contact had said, though: his appearance and colossal appearance were the only identification he needed.

Unfortunately, though, the man had called the attention of the entire tavern to their very meeting place, rendering what little privacy they could have had unsalvageable. Even drunken prying eyes were eyes she didn’t want on them as they discussed dragonstones and the lords who owned them, so Charlotte looked down to the ledger in front of her, closing it and neatly stowing it in the small leather shoulder bag she had sitting next to her. But even that barely afforded her enough time to collect something to say to this fantastical man. Best to keep it simple for now.

“Yes,” Charlotte said simply, standing from her seat and slinging the leather bag over her shoulder. Eyes glancing over the still humming room, the operative glanced up to Jabal before shrugging her shoulder towards the door. “We talk outside.”

Striding through the tavern and through the door, the blonde moved a few feet to the left of the door, crossing her arms with her hip popped to the side as she looked forward, eyes narrowed as she waited for the man to come through the door. As soon as he did, the blonde would look up at the gargantuan, making sure no one was within earshot.

“So you’re interested in Balsam’s stone.” Charlotte purposefully left out the ‘dragon’ part, not wanting to be so on the nose. “Strange thing to be interested in.”

[Jabal]

It didn't take long for the Mountain to notice that all eyes had come crowding in upon the woman's table, and he knew that it had more to do with his own arrival than anything else. But while everyone around them muttered and gawked like drunken fools, the woman in front of him quietly stowed her book, got up, and walked out, even going so far as to order Jabal outside. A calm demeanor and a few words was all it took for the woman’s presence to far eclipse that of anyone else in this dump, which was impressive given how small she was.

So Jabal followed, squeezing past the stools and tables then back through the door to the outside. Once there, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked down at the blonde. Oddly enough she seemed even smaller standing than she had sitting.

“So you’re interested in Balsam’s stone. Strange thing to be interested in.”

The words caused the giant's nostrils to flare, almost snorting at her insinuation that the stone could be anything but interesting. It didn't help that her tone made it quite obvious that she knew what it was.

“Tell that to Balsam.”

He understood that the woman was being coy with the information so as not to arouse suspicion, but the dragon wasn’t planning on entertaining the ponderous confidentialities of black market dealings. He had neither the time nor the patience for it. No, what he had was a burning desire to get his hands on a dragonstone, and he would do whatever it took to ensure that desire was satisfied. The fact that there was at least one dragon out there that could wield the full breadth of their power while he, the Mountain, was trapped in this weak, pitiful frame was something he could not abide.

“Skip the formalities, where is the stone?” grumbled Jabal, getting straight to the point. “Does this Balsam man have it?” The dragon waved a hand in the woman’s direction then let out a small sigh. He felt foolish for coming here on nothing more than the words of a pickpocket. This whole meeting could turn out to be nothing more than a scam, a barefaced attempt to relieve him of what little he had. But unfortunately he was a dragon of few options. After a thousand years of sleep he had no power, no nation, no allies, no connections, and not even a good map. If he was to reclaim what was his without burning another thousand years to do it then he'd need to take a few leaps of faith. Besides, he was more than capable of handling himself if anyone tried to jump him.

“If he does, then why am I talking to you?”

[Charlotte]

Charlotte looked the man in the eye. “Because I’m the only one alive who knows where it is and what it actually is.”

The blonde woman maintained eye contact with the mountainous man, her neck craning just to do so. Of course, the statement she made wasn’t entirely truthful (even if, self-contained, it was accurate), but she couldn’t help making such a dramatic statement - and she was also used to bluffing. The only other person that might still care about the stone was Bishop Aurelian, and Charlotte hadn’t heard anything through the grapevine about him or his people for some time now. For all intents and purposes, she was the only person who still cared about the stone besides her new friend.

“If you want to skip straight to business, fine,” Charlotte shrugged, finally breaking her gaze from the man’s eyes, looking out over the path into the city center that lay in front of them. Her eyes followed the lone merchant’s cart that slowly made its way down the path, likely having been rejected from exiting through the city’s security checkpoint.

Looking down at her neatly-trimmed nails, Charlotte continued. “But I know where the stone is. I know what it is. And I’m your only way of getting it, considering Lord Balsam’s funeral pyre finished smouldering a week ago.” Her comment was grim but true; it was her intention, after all, to drive the point home to the large man.

“Now, I’m more than willing to help,” the woman added, looking up from her graciously folded fingers, crossing her arms as she reconnected her gaze with the man’s. “But you have to understand, repossessing it won’t come easily. This stone’s already brought me a world of trouble, so risking that again needs to be worth my time.”

[Jude]

"YOU!"

The voice cracked and broke, hissing out from behind a crowd. It would have been familiar to one of two people currently having a conversation off to the side of a tavern that surprisingly looked abandoned for this time of day. Jude had already been checked fifty times entering the city, and thusly was already in a foul mood, perhaps more foul than usual, and it didn't make things any better that the first person he recognized in Laus was none other than the Mountain Man himself. Of course it was. With luck like Jude's, the next person to find him would be someone looking to take his head. Though, to be fair, that wasn't saying much, since Jude realized that the Mountain Man might also take Jude's head. And Mel might as well, so truly, the company he kept was pretty terrible. And he knew that, yet found himself constantly surrounded by people who might, at any moment, kill him.

Except, though, that the Mountain had abandoned him. And that wouldn't fly. Jude was already pissed off, and to see the Mountain with this blonde wench certainly didn't make things better.

Pushing through the crowd with a force previously unknown to him, Jude quickly stepped up his pace to meet the two talking to the side of the tavern, near an alley where few people probably ever trafficked. Red eyes lit ablaze with righteous fury, Jude wasn't sure whether to rest his eyes on and angry, unimpressed mountain, or a pissy, taut blonde snake probably looking to take the former's life. Eventually, he settled his eyes on the woman, who he felt a panicking need to address before getting thrown somewhere far away by the Mountain. It would happen, inevitably. It seemed to always happen. Better to get his piece out there first.

"YOU!" He shoved his finger out, near her collarbone, staring daggers into the woman's blue eyes with his fiery red ones. He seemed a touch confused, as his first outcry had been when he saw the Mountain, and his second, even though it was the same word, was directed to the other. His confusion grew, and so he turned to the Mountain, but was forced to look up at him instead of down at the woman.

"YOU!"

Jude's anger remained, though he was beginning to lose words. Uncertain of what to do or how to react, he just grumbled and lowered his hand, though his angry, furrowed brow remained trained on the Mountain's uncaring eyes. "I can't believe you left me, you piece of sh*t! I was helping you, for the gods' sake! See if I do sh*t for you now. Here I was, helping you find your little rock that we didn't find in that piss-hole dragon's lair, so what, we try Etruria, you abandon me there, and then come HERE? You'll have to do better than that, you giant walking abomination."

He scoffed, then turned back to look down at the blonde woman.

"And YOU!"

He bit his lip, unsure of how to erupt on her, though the pink-haired boy knew it was well deserved. "I'm sure the Mountain thinks he's interested in you, and if you've already slept with him I absolutely do not f**king care, but it's time for you to leave. He doesn't need you, he only needs me. We'll find his dumb rock without you, so beat it!"

Jude folded his arms, cocked his hip, and waited.

[Jabal]

So the two of them were to steal from a dead man? Jabal almost smiled. He seemed to be making a habit of grave robbing these days, but perhaps it was only natural for him to find kinship with the buried after all that time he spent likewise.

"If its payment you want," the Mountain began, reaching into his breast pocket, "I can provide you with plenty." His hand returned with a small leather pouch that he dangled in the blonde woman's face. It was stuffed full with hard shapes that poked out from within. Gems. They were the consolation prize Jabal had awarded himself after his misadventure in Etruria with that twit from the Western Isles. The purse was clearly embroidered with the initials of another man, but hopefully the dark, dried bloodstains caked into the leather made it clear that it would have been a waste to leave it with him after Jabal had taken the time to make sure the previous owner no longer needed the jewels inside. The dragon pocketed the purse as he continued to speak. “Someone as familiar with rare stones as you should app-”

"YOU!"

Jabal’s attention was captured by the shout of an all too familiar voice from the far side of a crowd on the other side of the street, and much to his chagrin he noticed the lanky pink haired form of a certain twit stick out above the heads of the others in the crowd. He could see those two indignant red eyes staring at him, and could only roll his own in muted exasperation.

Sure enough Jude came storming over to the mountain and the maid, stomping and snorting and frothing at the mouth like some sort of criminally malnourished rabid bull before shoving an angry finger into the woman’s collarbone. When he turned his misplaced anger towards Jabal, the latter was all too ready to send the idiot manchild to the ground for interrupting his dealings, but Jude had the decency to at least lower his finger before going off on the two of them.

The dragon let the pink tufted human say his piece, giving him little more than a dour stare as the smaller of the two went off about whatever injustices he mistakenly believed had been inflicted upon him. Not out of any sort of courtesy, of course, rather he was taking the time to discern whether it was even worth it to respond to this nonsense. Jabal had half a mind to simply smear the loudmouth into the cobblestone and be done with it, but he imagined that would not go over well with his contact or the crowd around them.

“Have you had your fun?” Jabal asked. His eyes were distant and disinterested as he spoke. The dragon reached down with a powerful claw and grabbed Jude by the collar, hoisting the lanky human at least a foot and a half off of the ground until he was eye level with the Mountain himself. He sighed, frustrated that great Io had somehow deemed it fitting that Jude run into him here. He’d give him a warning; the boy had earned at least that much.

“I know not why you hound me with such persistence. I do not care. If things weren’t clear, let me make them so: you have served your purpose, whatever it was, and now I have no use for you.” He cleared his throat with a growl. “If you cannot accept that and leave, you can sit still and silence that piss hole you call a mouth, but regardless of what you choose, do not think to interrupt my affairs again,” Jabal growled. “I will not ask twice.” He gave Jude one last dark look before tossing the him to the ground. That was no idle threat. Nothing was worth dealing with this repeated, blatant idiocy, and if Jude could not learn to behave himself he would learn that quite quickly. Jabal already had Lord Balsam's name, so if he had to find himself another lead he would.

“Ignore him,” he commanded the blonde woman as he returned to their original subject of conversation. “You’ve seen what I offer. Will the payment suffice or am I wasting my time?”

[Jude]

As usual, Jude hit the ground with a crash. He reached behind him and held his back where he'd hit, and with barred, gritted teeth he stared at the Mountain, deciding not to do anything. He wished more than anything that whatever gods were out there would give him the strength to punch the Mountain in his giant teeth, but alas, fate was cruel. And he'd been picked up and survived before. He spit off to the side, then picked himself up and brushed himself off, then spit again, right at the Mountain's side, as if it might intimidate him.

At first, Jude didn't speak. He just stared angrily at the Mountain, who stared back without an equal fire in his eyes, and spoke to Jude as if chastising a child who wouldn't leave his parents alone. But Jude knew better. After all, it had been some time since the two met, and while Jude was never one to give up a fight, he also knew that if the Mountain really wanted him dead, he had had plenty of opportunity to do so up to this point, and that if it was Jude's death the Mountain was really after, he would have had it by now. No, there was a reason he'd kept him alive. There was a reason they'd gone on a few journeys together. Jude scoffed, looking over at the blonde woman only briefly, declining to raise a finger to her again as he prepared to fully address the Mountain with a serious anger in his voice, a bit unlike his other, more temper tantrum like, tirades.

"Yeah, I've had my fun." He said darkly, cocking his head a bit to the side. What was this man thinking? Jude may be smaller, and he knew that, but he wasn't about to be pushed around so easily. The Mountain had learned that in the cave, when Jude hadn't backed down. And he sure as hell wasn't about to back down now just because he was smaller. He was tall for his age, damn it!

"Tch!" Jude scoffed. He wheeled around, walked a few steps in a circle, trying to contain his anger as he drew his hand up into his hair and grabbed a tuft of it. He approached the Mountain again, and with as much force as he could muster, pushed the Mountain with both his arms and all his strength. Naturally, the dragon did not move, but Jude looked unfazed. "Don't pretend like you don't care. You need me." He smirked at the Mountain, his angry, furrowed brow unchanged, but instead added to by this coy play. "I'm lots of things, but I ain't an idiot. You could've killed me six times by now if that's what you really wanted."

Jude looked over at the blonde haired woman, who seemed all to silent considering the situation. Perhaps she was trying to keep her distance, to stay out of affairs that were not hers. And in Jude's mind, that was both respectable and appropriate. He'd light her up if she snapped at him, too. He couldn't take everyone in his life always snapping at him. And she looked small enough that he could snap back if he needed to. It didn't matter.

"You tell me that you didn't need me in that cave. You put me in charge. You gave me the torch. Hell, you made me lead you in because you were so f**king scared!" Jude threw his arms in the air. "And don't make me remind you about Etruria. I came with you to find your stupid f**king magic rock. And have you found it, all on your own? No? I didn't think so."

Jude crossed his arms, coughed nervously, and took a few steps back from the Mountain. His little tirade had put into perspective the fact that he could be snapped in half at any minute. He was well acquainted with the Mountain's temper. Nonetheless, his eyes were fearless, determined, and fixed right on his opponent's. "You need me. You haven't found your dumb rock, and you won't without me. I'm the one who's gonna make sure you get it. All right?"

[Jabal]

“I said silence.”

It was a declaration, delivered with an air of assured finality that could only be spoken by one who knew true, absolute authority. He was the Mountain, and he would be heeded. But even the edict of a king meant little without the force to back it up, so no sooner had the words left Jabal’s mouth did the massive bulk of the dragon’s right arm come curving through the air like a the boom of a sailing ship. The back of his hand struck upside the loudmouth’s head with a satisfying smack, but despite his own pronounced superiority the Mountain found himself surprised at the relative lack of force in his swing. He did not show it, of course, but a thought fluttered through his mind all the same: was Jude right? Did Jabal somehow possess a need for this human? Was there a part of the dragon that refused to end this miserable little pigshit’s life out of an unconscious admittance that he actually required his help?

Of course not.

If Jude had been looking to unearth some repressed feelings of camaraderie from within the depths of the Mountain, he had failed. There was a part of Jabal that continued to pine for the warmth and adoration of his kin, but the dragon knew none of that was to be found in this miserable wretch of a human. The last scraps of amity that he’d carried with him through the bloody fields of the Scouring remained buried beneath Ostia alongside the bones of his brothers and sisters. If Jabal needed anyone, it was them, yet they were forever gone, and all the human had done is remind him of that simple fact.

Despite his insistence otherwise it seemed Jude truly was an idiot. He was nothing but a tool, one shorty useful that had now proven itself entirely useless. The only reason he was still here was that Jabal had not deemed him worth the time to dispose of. Now he had become a nuisance. Now he thought himself above his station and dared make demands of the Mountain himself. For that, if not all the rest of his insolence, he deserved to be disposed of.

“It seems I cannot heed my own advice,” Jabal growled, turning away from the blonde woman. His voice was low and menacing, but only because of how deathly calm it was. “While you consider my offer, let me take care of some unfinished business.”

[Jude]

No sooner could Jude comprehend what was actually happening than he found himself flying backwards into some wooden crates, cracking and breaking them completely as he felt the entire weight of his body smash into them, shattering them. He landed on the ground on top of wood splinters, at first unable to move. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes hard, having flown back only a few meters, but into something that had made him hurt much more. There weren't many people around-- they had, to Jude's demise, found somewhere relatively uninhabited, but those people who were still around gave some shocked gasps, turning white, and run back a few steps to admire what was going on. As the commoners had turned to look, likely all they saw was the large Mountain of a man and the tall but slender pink-haired boy trying to pick himself up out of the destroyed wooden crates.

Jude scoffed, actually laughing a bit as he picked himself up on his elbow,s resting a minute as he spit some blood out of his mouth off to the side. His smile said he was somehow excited, for whatever reason eager to incite this Mountain's rage. When in the mood to fight, Jude often forgot about matchups, and that in this case, if he provoked a fight, he could lose his life. All he saw was that he had finally elicited an emotional response from this giant Mountain of stoicism. Even in the cave, he hadn't shown any signs of human emotion. Anger was a good thing-- it was something Jude knew well. It was powerful. It fueled the both of them. It fueled wars, and it fueled his growth training under Ryuzaki.

"You'll have to do better than that." Jude laughed, standing to his feet as if suddenly, nothing had hit him. Weak to the Mountain's blows though he may have been, he was a resilient little twit. "If you wanna kill me, it'll take a lot more than that."

Jude wiped his mouth and looked at his hand. More blood. This would probably bruise pretty badly, and if he didn't die, Mel would have to nurse him back to health, and he didn't even remember where he'd left her after their endeavor in Sacae with the... Oh. That's right. Jude laughed. He'd run into the grave robbers again, and hadn't even had the time to tell the Mountain. Perhaps it didn't matter.

Without so much as a second thought, Jude unsheathed the dagger from behind his waist and held it tightly. He looked at it for a moment, then tossed it aside. He unhinged the glove on his sleeved arm and dropped his collection of throwing knives. Finally, he unwrapped his scarf from around his neck and let it fall down, cracked his neck on both sides, and stepped out of the mess of broken wood. He stared the Mountain in the eye with fierce determination and a smile on his face.

The fire-eyed boy spread his feet and raised his hands, one open-palmed and the other drawn back lower towards his midsection, fisted and ready to strike. Jude knew it was a stupid idea, and he was nonetheless excited. Shouting at the Mountain at an unnecessarily loud volume, he called out. "Face it! You haven't killed me yet because you know I can help you find your rock. And you won't kill me know, you'll only kick my ass." He smirked again. "I think I finally understand what happened in that cave." His thoughts flashed back to the fight in the Sacae plains, where he'd run into the cultists that had been there almost a year ago when he'd first met the Mountain, there to rob the grave of perhaps the same stupid rock the duo themselves had been looking for. While Jude still didn't know quite what it was, he had some ideas.

"So if you wanna fight, let's fight. But at the end of day, I ain't leavin' this city in a coffin. And I'm getting that damn rock, come hell or high water, if it's the last thing I do. And if you aren't nice to me, maybe I'll just keep it. Now come on!"

[Jabal]

"Why waste a coffin?"

There was something almost masochistic about how Jabal allowed Jude to speak without so much as an interruption. The dragon knew the idiot human would say nothing of value, do nothing but badger him and incite him to violence, so why did he continue to allow the human to run his mouth like the rear end of a dog plagued with dysentery? There were a million possible explanations to any bystander, most of them odd, a lot of them pathetic, but Jabal had lived long enough to know himself, and unlike the vast bulk of the humans that swarmed around him, it didn't take him months of introspection to read the tides of his own emotions. He knew what forces drove him forth, biting at his heels like hounds that refused to give up their chase.

Wrath. Spite. Hatred. Jabal let the Jude speak because it made the human an easy target, an avatar of humanity's wretchedness that Jabal could project his millennium old grievances upon. Every blow he laid upon the upstart human felt like a blow struck against the race that had pillaged his lands and slaughtered his kin, and although Jabal was smart enough to know that was not true in the slightest, he did not find himself wise enough to care.

The Scouring still raged inside of him, clawing at his skin, demanding closure, because while time had washed away history, it had ignored Dakhm Qesherh Al-Jabal. His war had never ended! Defeated but not killed yet left to rot in the ground like a corpse, the dragon had been denied both the peace of death and the dignity of an honorable one. Now he found himself a thousand years in the future, a leader without a people, a fang without a mouth, a Mountain without a range, just so that the descendants of the people who had taken everything from him could mock him and spit at his feet. The only greater humiliation was that Jabal had been left powerless to do anything about it but crush the heads of those who would first associate with rodents before their own kin!

The dragon watched as Jude disarmed himself, tossing his various weapons to the floor, and as the human stepped out from the ruins of the crates Jabal had pushed him into the dragon's eyes lit up in fury. Was this a joke? Even with knives this would more a bloodbath than a duel. Did this pebble truly think himself an equal match for a Mountain? If so then he was sorely mistaken!

The facade of calm and a control that Jabal had erected around himself melted away. All but the tiny human before him seemed to bleed out of existence. He charged forward, his feet like boulders crashing against the cobblestone road, before throwing a monstrous hand out at the pink haired human. He aimed for his throat, but the hand was hungry. It would settle for whatever flesh it could reach. All that mattered now was that Jude was silenced forever.

[Charlotte]

Charlotte knew how to pick her battles and when to stay out of domestic disputes, but as the situation in front of her escalated between her potential client and his foul-mouthed friend, the operative realized she might need to intervene. At first, it seemed as if the new arrival would just mouth off for a bit, fuss out whatever anger he was carrying, and then allow everyone to move on.

But as soon as the large man finished his piece, the smaller man continued to scream and shout, causing such a commotion that prying eyes were once again being drawn over to their place. Some passersby had completely stopped to watch the argument as it escalated, whispering amongst themselves as the pair continued to lay into one another without a second thought to how much of a scene they were making. Charlotte sighed; this disaster was the very reason why she avoided working with amateurs.

While the woman had moved back to allow the men their space, it was clear that unless they wanted the town guard upon them, Charlotte would have to step in and trying to stop this whole mess from escalating any further. “This is ridiculous, you two, control yourselves,” the woman’s voice seethed with frustration as she spoke, watching as the pink-haired rapscallion threw a belt of daggers to the ground.

Of course, her attempt to pull their attention from one another garnered no response; rather, the hulk of a man lunged at the other, eliciting a gasp from the onlookers, some even calling for the city watch. Charlotte was sure she’d regret getting involved, but she very well couldn’t let the men kill one another. “Stop this NOW!” The blonde yelled as she dashed after the large man, reaching out and grabbing for any part of the man’s mountainous physique she could manage to get a hold of. Charlotte was no fool; she knew she had no chance of stopping his momentum herself. She just hoped the contact would snap him out of whatever rage-fueled focus he was locked into right now.

[Jude]

Jude's gaze only became more fixed, more focused, more determined. More powerful. As the Mountain came forward, the smirk only grew wider and Jude parted his feet. He was a bit surprised as the indifference faded to reveal this severe and ungodly wrath, and naturally Jude felt the shiver up his spine, but the eustress he'd been given from this new situation was enough to keep him excited.

"Oooh... Scary." Jude called as the Mountain rushed towards him. This wasn't going to be easy, and he knew that much. But he had studied under Ryuzaki, Near, the master assassin. He'd been in his fair share of fights. He knew his way around, at least enough to not get obliterated as soon as things were getting fun. There was no way he'd waste a fun opportunity like this. The Mountain finally got emotional, and to present, as far as Jude was concerned, he was the first to have been able to do that.

"Hah! Too slow!"

With strange, expert ease, Jude ducked under the man's powerful grab, causing him to miss completely. He followed up by shooting his hands up to grab the Mountain's wrist, in an effort to throw him off his feet using his own powerful momentum. It was a terrible, terrible idea. The Mountain's throw had been so powerful, as soon as Jude grabbed onto his wrists, he was lifted off the ground and carried through the air with the unsuccessful grab. Jude immediately let go, but the momentum he'd hoped to use for his benefit instead sent him flying into the wall opposite of the two men. Jude turned his body in the air to brace for impact using his shoulder, and when he hit, it was hard. He was pretty sure nothing broke, but he hit the ground hard after hitting the wall and coughed a minute, having lost all the air in his lungs. But he didn't have time to think.

Suddenly, the blonde woman who had remained silent decided that it was her turn to speak. Whatever. Jude glared at her, ignoring the Mountain for a moment. "You stay out of this, damn it." He said fiercely, turning his gaze back to his opponent. "This ain't your fight."

Almost like a blink, Jude was off, dashing forward, then leaned down low and aimed a punch straight at the Mountain's midsection. "Eat sh*t, you ugly rock!" He ducked his head below the man's arm and aimed the bunch perfectly in his middle... And then he felt the pain.

His fist had made perfect contact, but Jude was sure he'd broken some fingers. The punch hadn't made the man budge. Jude's body went cold with fear. His hand throbbed, and he immediately recoiled and grabbed his fist with his other hand, falling backwards and onto the ground. He quickly rolled backwards in an attempt to get away from the Mountain, but wasn't sure he'd have the time before he could get squashed like a bug, or picked up and thrown. This was not good. This was very, very bad.