[Episode] Black Sheep & Lambs to the Slaughter

Quest Request:

It was a dreary day suppressed beneath the battering of torrential rains, ink-black storm clouds murmured up grumbles of thunder, but lightning was yet to strike. The men of the Merry Militia marched onwards, through the mucky soaked silt of the village’s hill; for those unlucky chosen for today’s patrol it was down to the murky gray shores of Syrup Village to investigate sightings of a “little creature.”

Searching for monsters and sea-serpents was something of a tradition for the idle men of the relatively peaceful little island, when the weather was nice it was a fun way to pass the time and give the people a sense of security; however, in the middle of a storm it seemed more like a fool’s errand.

[npc=misc]“What is it we’re lookin’ for again, Jack?”[/npc] An older member of the guard queried their young leader; he was a bit curious, usually the targets of the group’s hunt were devised amongst the group, but this time the Mayor of Merry himself had tasked them with a quest on behalf of the community.

“A little critter, been scramblin’ around; nabbin’ up livestock and nibblin’ it down if farmer Aesopp’s anything to go on,” Jack spoke back, casting a bit of derision in his voice towards the source of the inquiry.

[npc=misc]“Ah, I suppose we won't be out long then? Just another a’ that old guy’s tall tales?”[/npc] The man’s boots were already a bit soaked, he had every reason to dismiss the man’s claim.

But a well trained flock of sheep knows well enough to heed the call of the boy who cried wolf.

“Could be. That’s what we’re out for eh?” Jack scoffed, covering an undertone of concern in his voice.

Lightning is said never to strike twice in the same place, in this way misfortune can be said to be the elemental plasma’s opposite; calamity propagates wherever it is present.

Like driftwood being carried to shore upon cruel waves, the all-but broken old fishing vessel banked itself weakly into the island’s sands. Stepping off the ship’s helm and landing with a small spray of muck, the giant gracefully made his way along the beachfront.

He solemnly strode, most disliked the rain; but the eastern rains were one of the many things that the monster would be leaving behind in his departure from the blues. He was headed for Loguetown, but he didn’t know exactly where he’d washed up. Like a stone skipped across the blues, the oni had brought terror to every island he’d frequented, but this place seemed almost too peaceful to defile with his usual antics.

This can’t be Loguetown, it’s quiet here… the whistling ocean breeze carried Doji forwards, the tattered rags of his kimono drifted weakly in the wind like dangling wisteria,  … may as well enjoy it, I’ll stay this blade here if I can, the monster thought to the cruelty of his weapon, a blade that demanded the tribute of rampant bloodshed whenever it was drawn.

Then the Merry Militiamen all Readied their Spears

Their leader young Jack had commanded all ears, “there on the distance men, do you see it?” Something on the beach, something inhuman; their search for fairytale creatures had finally paid off.

All were caught off guard, gawking in awe of the strange thing. Chattering amongst themselves the men wondered what to do, in truth they’d never encountered a monster, they had no idea what such a thing was capable of.

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A little girl, a young fishwoman to be exact, caught wide-eyed and terrified by the men who were staring her down. In her hands she carried the decapitated body of a chicken, and in her mouth, the head of the poultry; she awkwardly and indiscriminately inhaled the morsel of meat before beginning to abscond as quickly as her tiny legs could ferry her down the beach, still carrying her prized piece of meat.

“Git on, get and get after her!” Jack and his militiamen were filled with an animating zeitgeist that drove them forwards toward their prey; they had never seen a monster before! What’s more, this one was tiny and looked like easy enough prey; the Merry militia men could bring back the little beastie’s head and prove their worth to the entire village!

Jack was the most relentless of the girl’s pursuers, and quickly drew upon her back with his saber. He swiped at her back, again, and again, and the girl just barely avoided being cut in twain each time. Eventually the girl dropped her prized chicken and sprinted as quickly as her entire body would allow her to move.

Still, the little creature couldn’t run forever. It was not long before the man landed a successful strike, knocking the little fish to the beach, bleeding from a large gash on her back.

As the man walked up to finish off his prey, his allies chuckling and cheering behind him for their successful hunt, a whirlwind of sand was whipped up in an instant. As the dust settled, the scene stood clear as day.

The devil himself had intercepted Jack’s killing blow, catching it effortlessly upon a massive, red-bladed katana. The thing’s piercing blue eyes sent shivers down the men’s spines, it was over seventeen feet tall, it had terrible dark horns growing from its skull and was dressed in some garb that looked like that of a priest. It’s face looked serene, disappointed, like a wrathful angel looking scornfully upon God’s creations.

“You men, you carry swords…” the thing spoke softly, but they carried far as no-one else spoke a word,  “... and yet you chased after a little girl, a whole little horde of you.”

Jack's saber was sent flying in an instant, landing blade first in the sands behind him. Nobody dared speak, except for the monster,

“Tell me, do you call yourself swordsmen?”

The implication was clear. The monster was asking if the men would face him head on, or if they would die with their backs turned.

Jack looked up nervously, but he scampered backwards and retrieved his blade from the beach. His voice trembled nervously as he raised his sword to rally his men, “I do, demon! I’m a right, proper swordsman! And in the name of Merry we’ll best ya good! Brobdingnagian fuck!”

The oni clutched his face in his hands and laughed, he’d never been called a brobdingnagian before, he couldn’t surmise exactly what the word meant, he figured it some local word for a giant, “Yoka-ka-ka-ka-iii!...”

The Merry Militia Men consulted amongst themselves for a moment, and, though Jack’s rallying cry was a meek one; the men had been friends for a long time now, they had come this far, and in truth the men really did believe in their duty to the people of the Gecko Islands.

With this, the gaggle of mortal men raised their swords against the devil himself, and were filled with an invigorating spirit. It was as though their warrior’s spirit had only intensified in the face of a superior adversary, and looking amongst themselves, they swore they would protect each other, and they swore they would win.

Hearing the men raise their blades and stand their ground, Doji began to cackle with a crazed condescension that foretold the doom that the men were fated for,  “...shini-hi-hi-hi. I suppose you truly are warriors afterall. Just the honorless sort who see fit to cut down young girls. Come on then, come get some blood!”

With his taunt, Doji threw his katana over his shoulder, and threw out a rude hand gesture, beckoning whoever amongst the militiamen were brave enough to oppose him.

Jack, and a couple of his most loyal and courageous compatriots charged for the monster. Jack looked to his compatriots, he remembered when they were children, going out into the woods and fighting with sticks; preparing for the day that they would someday fight a monster, that day had finally come.

Jack’s loyal childhood friends were shredded into mincemeat in an instant. Though he could now see that the monster’s eyes were cloudy and blind, it almost seemed as if the devil was staring down at him.  

He felt sick to his stomach, the boy had never seen the bloodshed of true battle; let alone seeing it doled out so mercilessly. He dropped to his knees and coughed up a bit of his lunch into his hands. The demon did not strike him down, instead allowing the teary-eyed young man to pick himself up on his feet and regain his bearings.

“Do you understand now?”

The monster spoke plainly and matter of factly. Had these words been spoken with a more merciful tone they might have sparked a glimmer of hope in Jack’s heart; but these were not merciful words.

Doji’s question was spoken coldly, callously, like a judge pronouncing a sentence.

“Go on then, who’s next?” The beast spoke these words more clearly, gesturing towards the crowd with his bloodstained blade.

Seems like you’re finally starting to see my way boy! The Muramasa was reveling in the cruelty its master was inflicting upon these lesser men.

Shut up, this isn’t for you, it’s for her, Doji thought to himself, battling against the voice of slaughter that had plagued his mind ever since he’d unsheathed his nodachi.

The little fishwoman had crawled a ways behind Doji and was looking back wide-eyed as the men charged towards her unexpected savior.

Jack flew into a rage, he charged for the devil’s leg, summoning all of his might and channeling it into his attack.

He was met with the sturdy armored reinforcements of the devil’s leg armor.

“Pathetic,” Doji spoke condescendingly down to Jack before kicking the little man into a nearby bank of sand.

The leader of the Merry militia sat there, winded, and with broken ribs, as the rest of his allies mustered their defense against the demon. They looked amongst each other, then looked to Jack; a man that many of them had looked up to during their training sessions, now bloodied and broken. Some were filled with fear, some were filled with anger, but in this moment all of them charged for the monster; some of them leaping up into the air and swinging their weapons for the monster’s heart, it’s head, anywhere that they thought could kill it.

Deep in the hearts of these men was the desire to have revenge for their fallen comrade. They wanted to see this great monster brought to justice, they wanted to be the heroes that they had always promised their families that they were…

… that they could be.

In an instant, all of the men who had leapt towards Doji were bisected horizontally. Their severed torsos went flying further down the beach, geysering blood across the beach’s sands like ocean spray in their wake.

“You all truly think of yourselves as heroes don’t you?...” The oni spoke loudly with a deep hatred in his voice, the men’s fervor disgusted him; the moment he had seen them intentionally chasing out a girl to kill, they became inhuman to Doji, and the would-be king of monsters already didn’t have the highest regard for human life,  “... you think of yourselves as the champions of this island. But look at you! You’re little more than boys playing pretend! But look around you! This is no fairytale, there will be no happy ending! You lot are no heroes, die knowing this! You are cowards, little more than any other gang of thugs who would chase down and murder an innocent girl!”

Doji almost seemed to scream as he drew near the end of this sentence; he remembered the girl whose life his sword had inadvertently taken. He could not imagine the sort of monstrous person who would intentionally kill a child.

The monstrous girl stood behind the monster, and though she didn’t understand what he was saying, she could feel that there was something desperate inside of him that wanted to protect her. It was as though this horrible, merciless, swordsman was her guardian angel.

The wounded girl sat up, and stopped fleeing the scene, looking in awe at the monstrous strength of the man that was protecting her.

Gruesome:

The men knew that abandoning their charge would be moot at this point, they stabbed, and slashed, and chopped at the monster with all of their might; and by the time they had all be ground into piles of gore and meat, the devil stood there, panting, wounded, covered in blood, but still alive.

The sacrifice of the lambs had been in vain.

Doji panted as he spoke to the last militiaman who remained alive, Jack, still sitting on the hill short of breath and coughing up blood.

“Yoof-yhyoof I will leave you alive little man, tell your village’s leaders of what your depraved actions brought upon you and your men,” Doji spoke down condescendingly.

“Ha! That’s a right funny one big ol’ fuck! What our actions brought on us? You’re the one who killed my men, monster…” Jack spoke bitterly, blood trickling down his bottom lip as he glared into the at blind man’s empty, uncaring eyes, “... yer tha one what decided that her life was worth more ‘n all of ours, ‘n she’s a monster, ‘n so are you. So I’m not going to live in shame, I’m not going to buy into tha rules a’ stupid little game monster!”

Shambling back up to his feet, and clutching his sword limply in his hand, Jack drew a deep breath of air into his lungs, and conjured up the last of the strength that his body would allow him. Jack charged towards the devil, and threw his sword forwards; he saw it: he had wounded the monster, would it finally go down?

Had Jack struck the winning blow?

For a moment he thought so; but at the end of the clash, Doji remained breathing, though he choked up blood, and bled profusely from the cuts that had been left all over his body, the monster still lived.

Jack however, was nothing more than half a man. His mind clung to consciousness for a moment, savoring the pride of having been able to wound such a fearsome opponent, and for having died on his own terms. With this, the last of the Merry Militia died in peace.

Once the fight had obviously concluded, the little maneater walked up to the large man and tugged at the bottom of his hakama’s leg. She struggled to form any words, especially considering her wounded condition, but she choked out her name nonetheless “Ny-Ny…” the girl seemed a bit faint as she clung to Doji’s leg, “... help.”

With this, the fish girl’s consciousness slipped from her. Doji sheathed his sword immediately before turning to the girl,  “You, you’re Ny– uh Ny something? C’mon stay with me girlie,” Doji seemed frantic as he held the body of the bleeding girl.

Had his lust for violence allowed another innocent life to slip through between worlds?

That night, the families of the Merry Militia man supped without their fathers, without older brothers, without many of the young men of Syrup Village. But they all figured that the men were out having another “stakeout” and didn’t worry much as the night wore on.

Meanwhile, Doji sat, covered in bandages alongside the wounded little fish girl; he’d managed to staunch her blood loss and provide some basic aid, but as he watched her breathe shallowly wrapped in the pelt of an animal and cozy next to the warmth of the fire, he didn’t know if she would survive.

Morning came, and a group of fishermen came down to the beach for their morning catch. They were awestruck and horrified by what they saw: the bloodsoaked aftermath of a brutal massacre, and sitting in an encampment not too far from the site of the slaughter was a large, horned figure.

Needless to say, the anglers did not stick around to investigate, and quietly made their way back the way they came. Only once they were sure they were far enough from the grisly scene did they dare begin running back towards the local village to inform the townspeople of the horrible news.

Once they had returned, they spoke the news to the steward of Merry Mansion, as their island’s leader was away from the island attending to political business elsewhere. The noble leader of the peaceful settlement was distraught, and the village people came together to mourn the men they had lost that day; before quickly planning an evacuation of the village, knowing that the monster had slaughtered their protectorate, it was only a matter of time before he came for the civilians.

Meanwhile, back on the beach…

The midday sun shone down on the girl as the large man set about hunting small game. As soon as she returned to consciousness she could already smell the delicious scent of cooked meat.

Ny’s eyes snapped open, looking around her bright surroundings and narrowing her eyes accordingly, she quickly found the source of the scent; it was placed on a small piece of wood directly beneath her, as though to entice her to return to the land of the living.

Quickly the girl devoured this skewer of rabbit meat, and began sniffing around and eating all of the meat that Doji had set by the fire to cook. Deer, squirrel, bird, fish, and rabbit alike, she gobbled it all up.

Doji heard something from back towards the camp, and quickly ran back over the hill; he was overjoyed, even from up on the hill he could hear the little fish scarfing down all of the meat he’d set out for her.

“Oy! You’re alive!” Doji ran down to the girl with a big smile plastered across his face.

“Ek?” The girl was confused, she had no idea what the man was saying, but he seemed very happy that she was awake. As soon as she realized what was going on the man had picked her up and thrown her high into the air, the bright sun showing down on the little bandage-covered fishwoman.

“Eeek!!” The girl screamed as Doji bounced her up into the air, and back down into his hands. Very quickly, she tired of being treated like an infant, and snapped her little teeth down on the man’s arm.

Doji’s smile of relief quickly turned to the anger of a devil as the pain of the little girl’s bite coursed through his already wounded arm,  “You little brat! Get offa me!”

The oni waved his arm back and forth rapidly until finally, the fish girl was thrown free, where she fell into a small pile of sand next to the last of the devoured meat.

“Can’t I get a little gratitude? Those guys were going to kill you Ny!” Frustrated, the oni sat back down by the fire.

“No kill Ny,” the girl spoke plainly from the mound of sand she had been entombed in, reaching her arm out and swatting towards the nearest meat.

“Yeah, I’m not gonna kill you dummy…” the young man pouted at the little girl; in truth, both of them were behaving like children.

“...alright girl, you can do what you want, if you wanna join me, then you can go get on my ship; but otherwise I’d suggest you head back for the ocean,” with this offer, Doji stood up and left the fire.

“I have business to attend to. I need to make sure nothing like this ever happens again,” the swordsman spoke solemnly as he began walking inland. Sobered from his bloodlust, the weight of the lives that Doji’s sword had devoured wore on his consciousness. He had sought absolution for his past sins by slaughtering those who would perpetrate the same transgression intentionally, but it brought him no solace.

He could not undo any of the lives he had taken, least of all that of the girl from Shimotsuki. The girl he had saved didn’t even seem to understand any of what he’d said to her, and in truth, he doubted that she would join him on his travels. He simply hoped that she would live a peaceful life in the sparkling romantic waters of the East Blue.

Still, Doji was resolved  that he would not be seen as a villain by these people for the actions that he considered righteous, and that whatever militia they were able to raise in the stead of the one that he had slaughtered, that they would not go around murdering children of unusual tribes thinking they were chasing after fairy tale monsters.

The peaceful and serene scenery of the Gecko Islands were largely lost on Doji, his eyes were blind to its verdant fruit-bearing trees, its flowering bushes, he was blind to all of this place’s natural beauty; he had stained this pretty little canvas with unspeakable bloodshed.

But his actions were just.  They all deserved their judgment, Doji told himself this, but he didn’t feel all that certain of his own thoughts. Clutching the handle of his sword tightly sheathed as he walked through the shrubbery, he feared that he would draw it from its scabbard, and that the blade would demand more bloodshed.

It was not long before the demon came to Merry Manor, the surrounding township of Syrup Village was completely empty. But standing bravely in front of the structure, facing down the devil himself, was the lamb-cowled steward of Merry Mansion.

“Take what you want, maaanster! I know that you have come for our people, but please, allow me to staaand in for them; I do not know what we have done to baaring your wrath down upon us, baaut I accept full responsibility! Please, do not harm any more innocent people!” With this, the teary-eyed man dropped to his knees and bowed to the red-haired devil; he hoped that his death would be swift, and that the creature would be content to end its reign of terror with his head.

“Relax. I’m not going to kill you…” the looming figure spoke down to the man from behind his shaggy red hair,  “... I just have to set the record straight.”

Curious, the steward peered up from beneath his bowed head, looking up to the horned monster before him, “h-haaaw do you mean?” the public servant stammered.

“Your men were chasing after a little girl, their leader was intent on killing her. Are you aware of that?” Doji spoke matter of factly down to the man.

“W-whaaat? No? Surely they did no such thing,” he spoke incredulously, not wanting to believe such a thing of the men whose loss he mourned, in his heart, not believing it at all.

“It’s true, they were chasing her down the beach. The leader knocked her down to the ground, and had I not stopped him, he would have killed her there and then. Is that what you want out of your militia?” The oni spoke condescendingly, he had never ruled over a territory, he had never truly led other people; he had no idea how callous and unbelievable his words sounded.

“Stop lying maaanster! You can speak whatever falsehoods you wish, baaut I will not believe you! The men of the Merry Militia were nobaal, they would never strike down an innocent child!” Still crying, the man stood to his feet and pointed up towards Doji.

“What makes a person innocent to your people? How can you tell what makes a person innocent?” The oni’s question was spoken more earnestly, his voice was soft  but it prodded at the man, demanding an answer.

The steward could give no such answer.

“Is being monstrous a sufficient substitution for guilt? Was that little girl guilty simply because she was born a fishwoman?”

A calm washed over the two men, the steward finally understood why the devil had slaughtered the Merry Militia. The hurt carried in the monster’s voice spoke volumes, the beast had spent its entire life being chased after by humans who had assumed his guilt based on his appearance below.

He could still hardly believe it, that his men had chased down a little girl, even if she was a monster; and had planned on killing her.

He wondered what would happen if the militia had succeeded in their mission, would they simply have returned to Syrup Village and been hailed as heroes? Carrying the severed head of the fish girl, would the men have been greeted and hailed as heroes?

They would have been. The Merry Militia would have been welcomed back into town as brave soldiers, their battle against the monster would have been celebrated with a healthy feast, and whatever tall tales the men spun would have become the fact of the matter.

The steward, Stewart, of Merry Manor, was sickened to the very pits of his stomach.

“So that’s what happened…” The man was finally convinced of the truth of the matter, his face went white, and his blood went cold. He couldn’t believe that the men of his village had done such a thing, and were it not for the families left fatherless, he almost would have felt glad for the oni’s intervention.

“Now you get it…” Doji spoke with a solemn tone to his voice, in truth, he regretted what he had been forced to do,  “... please, whatever defenses your island muster up next, make certain that your men know: we are monsters for the actions we choose, not the tribe we are born into.”

The two sat in silence for a moment, and as soon as Stewart began to speak next, the monster had left with inhuman speed.

It was not long before Doji departed from the island, he didn't even bother to see if the fish girl had stowed away on his ship; he was certain she had made her way into the ocean and left for brighter shores. As the little boat sailed away from the Gecko Islands, its captain sat lonely and conflicted aboard the deck; Doji knew it at this point, he was ready for the Grand Line, and he had brought that strength in full-force against a group of soldiers much weaker than himself.

He had crushed those happy little dreamers of the East Blue; he allowed his sword, a blade brimming with unspeakable malevolence, to feast upon them. Maybe he had always been the monster that people thought of him as.

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Syrup Village…

Running through the underbrush, Stewart made his way towards the opposite end of the island; if he caught up with the village folk quickly enough, then perhaps he could prevent them from setting sail and fleeing for refuge.

He was just in time, the lamb-hooded man ran down the sandy hill that led to the beach, sheer cliffs of stone rising up to the higher level of the island on either side. He was relieved at what he saw, but he couldn’t afford to relax just yet; the people of Syrup Village hadn’t embarked yet, but the remaining men of the village were laboring to push the boat out to sea.

The merry little lamb that sat as the figurehead of the ship smiled unwaveringly, in spite of the horrors that had been inflicted upon the people here, it almost seemed to know that the people would be alright.

“WAAAIT! STAAAP! DON’T LEAVE! WE DON’T NEED TO LEAVE THE ISLAND!...” Stewart shouted so loudly that he winded himself, exhaling all of the air in his lungs and collapsing to a panting mess on his knees, “... it’s gone. The monster is gone. I uh– I talked to it.”

The men stopped pushing the boat forwards, and the sheep-headed ship was all too happy to stay banked in its place. Quickly, the laborers ran over to meet with their Mayor’s steward.

[npc=misc]“Stewart! You’re alright!”[/npc] One of the men ran to his comrade and picked him back up to his feet.

[npc=pirt]“What do ya mean you talked to it?”[/npc] Another of the men, more gruff and disgruntled from hours of backbreaking labor, was less enthused.

“The thing. The monster that killed our men, it was a man; much like you or I…”

Stewart couldn’t bring himself to meet the eyes of any of his fellow men, he couldn’t bare to tell them of what the men were really doing on the beach when the slaughter happened; he doubted they would commiserate much if they knew anyways, they would simply loathe him for submitting to the monster’s demands.

So he told a lie, a little white lie, like a little white lamb.

A sacrifice to keep the peace.

“... it said that it had come for Jaaack alone, and that the other men were casualties of their fight. That it had no grievance against our island, only against one man; that our warriors had fought baaravely, but they were no match for him. Jack was a baarave, noble, man; so too were the rest of our militiamen, rest their souls. But their sacrifice was not in vain! They stood together as comrades, and perhaps it was the demonstration of their baaravery that moved the giant monster to overlook our island. Baaut now, we can all return home!”

Before long people returned to their homes and things settled back into a peaceful lull in Syrup Village. Stewart set about training a new group of men to defend the village, and though they loathed the monster that had destroyed those who came before them; their steward ensured that a new set of protocols was set into place: there would be no more idle patrolling, the men would guard their village and respond if its people were directly threatened, nothing more.

It was with this, that the time old tradition of the slaughter of the lambs was brought to an end. In the wake of the monstrous red wolf’s massacre, the peaceful flock of Syrup Village would never stray away and hunt like wolves themselves, not ever again.

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