Nero (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sassery) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
felldenlogs2019-09-28 01:50 am
sassery) wrote in felldenlogs2019-09-28 01:50 am
Entry tags:
keep going back and forth {quest; closed}
Who: Nero and the villagers of Basir
What: A quest to rescue a poor village from being overrun by feral demon hogs
Where: Basir
When: In between part 1 and part 2 of the harvest fest
Warnings: None, except dumbassery bc it's Nero
"They’ve been a plague for weeks now, m’lord."
Feet propped on the nearest table, arms behind his head, Nero studies the older couple; a man and a woman, who had taken him in for the evening in the small village of Basir. The Priestess had sent him here with the task of clearing out the trouble that seems to be wreaking havoc on these poor people, and the devil hunter had quickly accepted. He needed something to keep him occupied beyond simply visiting Kyst and helping homes in the Moon territory prepare for the change in the seasons. Without needing much more information, he’d managed to make his way to the stables and get directions to the village, which was no more than a day’s worth of riding.
The travel there was pretty uneventful- though Nero has to say it’s a first for him riding on a horse, far too used to moving by foot across different areas. Basir reminds him of the quieter edges of Fortuna; small houses, a tight-knit community, all nestled by a forest with its small lake. The people there seem quiet, but kind, easily welcoming him upon his arrival and ushering him around to show their home and explain the situation. This couple, in particular, seemed eager to take him in, calling his arrival a "blessing" and something "good from the gods," of which he rolled his eyes at the moment they weren’t focusing their attention on him.
Good from the gods, right.
The wife speaks up again, wind picking up outside the door of the small abode. "Winter is approaching quickly, an’ with these demon hogs around, we can’t preserve or save enough crops to keep us tended to durin’ the cold months. Anything you can do to help, m’lord, we’d appreciate it."
Nero leans forward, feet moving off the table to clarify a few things. "First off, drop the 'lord' or whatever fancy things you’ve got for my name- Nero is fine. I’m not a stuffy noble or king, so there’s no need for that." The couple looks at him and then each other, a little uncertain at such informality from someone in the Moon Temple, but they slowly nod. Progress. Nero sighs, thinking just a little. "Secondly, where was the last time they attacked? How many of them were there?"
Demon hogs aren’t something he’s covered, but that doesn’t mean they’re something he won’t do. Besides, they may be a good challenge, and he knows he’s needed that for a while now.
Nero gets his answer promptly. "Old man Tyrus would know. The poor man had one of his animal pens overrun in a stampede recently. He had to keep the boars away from his grain storage, set fire to part of his fields to do it." There’s a grimace at the thought, both of the natives glancing at each other in sympathy. The farmer was lucky- other residents haven’t had quite as good an outcome as his.
"Old man Tyrus, huh. Where’s he live? I’ll head over there tomorrow." It’s handed to him on a piece of paper, and the conversation devolves more into Nero and his home, Fortuna. He tells them about how it’s an isolated island, the people there diligent and focused on living as believers to a god who no longer resides there, and there’s a striking similarity Nero finds between here and home. Not that Sparda ever was a god, he was apparently just there for the founding of Fortuna, and then fucked off to who knows where. It’s absolutely stupid, and the boy had stopped caring or listening to the sermons a long time ago.
Soon enough, the couple bids him goodnight and shows him his room for where he’ll be sleeping. Nero takes to it quickly, settling down on the bed, noting how simple it is, but not really minding all that much. It’s kind of like being in the van, except with less trash and more open space- and far less stuffy than staying by the Temple, that’s for sure. Call him rebellious, but he’s never been a fan of staying too close to where headquarters or where the main head-honcho stays. It feels cramped, too close, almost as if someone’s breathing down his neck constantly. No thanks.
Unfortunately, he's too wired to go to sleep just yet, finding that his mind wanders back to the Qliphoth and what transpired there. Dante and Vergil's agreement, their stubbornness in doing what needed to be done... Nero sighs in aggravation, hands wandering to find a worn book that's familiar, in some ways. He flips it open, the "V" still lit in its golden hue from when he remembers V carrying it around. A page lies bare and he reads, almost absentmindedly.
"I have no name:
I am but two days old."
What shall I call thee?
William Blake. Nero was never one for poetry, not even when he was young. Why Vergil kept this book and considered it so important is beyond him, but he didn’t really have the chance to ask when he needed to beat the shit out of the other.
"Okay old man, what’ve you got in here?" He’s hoping for something to show him more of the man he so desperately wants to know more about, yet is too afraid to ask, should he- no, Nero corrects himself- when he returns.
"I happy am,
Joy is my name."
Sweet joy befall thee!
It’s a book more suited for children, all things considered, which just makes Nero all the more unsure of who exactly his father is. Other than perhaps becoming more of a nerd, he can’t fathom as to why this is a treasured keepsake. Maybe it contains a history of the family? A note about Sparda? Nero lies back on the bed, scoffing, running through the pages again and trying to see if he can read in between the lines. Nothing. Just… poetry. Still, he can’t deny that it belongs to Vergil. Maybe he’ll ask him when he gets back home- whenever that is.
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while;
Sweet joy befall thee!
He drifts to sleep, book on his chest and a pang that aches in his core, still missing two idiots in particular.
—————————————————————————————————
Mornings aren’t usually his strong suit, choosing the comfort of sleep over the sunlight showing through the window pane. Nero stubbornly refuses to move, pulling the sheets over his head as he turns to his side and dozes off again.
Or, well, he would, if there wasn’t a bloodcurdling scream echoing through the village at this moment. In an instant he’s awake, Vergil’s book toppling to the floor before he scoops it back up, Nero already shoving on his clothes and grabbing his things. Pushing the door aside quickly, he’s greeted by the couple once more, who have immediately come to him to give him the news. A few demon boars have been spotted near one of the outposts, just inside the village. That’s all he needs, and he runs out into the streets and heads there immediately. A block away, he can hear things crunching and more screaming as people run in the opposite direction, and his blood begins to recognize there’s another devil nearby.
Of course, turning the corner is another story. There are boxes destroyed, hoof marks all over, and a few tools sent scrabbling to the ground- well, it’s a demon boar, all right. And it’s really, really small. No bigger than a cat, at most.
"Look who came to play! It’s okay little guy, I’ll go easy on you- you wouldn’t be much bacon anyhow." He leans down, clapping his hands together like he’s calling a dog to him. The baby demon boar gives a loud snort at the comment, trotting closer and its head butting against Nero’s leg in increasing ferocity. "What, you really want to hit me? That’s cute." The devil hunter hoists the boar up by the scruff of its neck, bringing it eye to eye with him, before chuckling just a little. "Yup, definitely a killer, I can see it in your eyes."
Carefulness is not in the Sparda bloodline, nor is tact. Well, for some of them, anyway.
But it’s with a squeal that Nero feels his blood shift from a whisper to a scream, and a second later he leaps upwards into the air, body twisting as he lets go of the boar-
Just as the mother demon boar crashes through the entire outpost, wrecking it to splinters in an instant. And mom? Mom’s the size of a horse. No wonder these guys have been such a problem.
"You know, much as that was a clever trick, I think it needs work. Both of you guys reek something fierce." Nero lands again on the ground with both feet, a whistle on his lips as he surveys the damage calmly and watches the mother stamp her feet in anger. Had he been a second later, he’d have been gored on the very large tusks she bears. There’s an audible roar from the beast, her going and charging without hesitation, and Nero meets her smack in the face with both his feet, dropkicking her and shoving her several feet back from where she originally was. His eyes wander to the wreck of the outpost, noticing mostly sharp points sticking out, but also some rope and several spare blades about. Which gives him an idea.
The mother boar is furious, recovering and getting on her feet just as Nero winds the rope around one of her tusks, swinging himself over and onto her back, latching the other end of the rope inside her mouth, creating a makeshift bridle. He yanks hard, causing her to try and buck him off her back, and Nero holds on like a cowboy does with a wild bull. There are several hoots and hollers, and he swears he hears laughter that isn’t his, the sight of a red coat flickering out of the corner of his eye. Another pull, and he manages to get her to turn, bounding back towards the forest with him in tow, the baby boar still squealing as it tries to keep up.
Five minutes later, she manages to toss him off, the devil hunter readjusting himself to land on his feet, even as he slides a little on the ground. A hand reaches for Red Queen, bringing her out with a swing, fire igniting on the edge of the blade. As he does, he feels something breathing down his neck, and he whirls, noticing dozens upon dozens of eyes staring back at him in the darkness of the foliage around him.
A smile widens on his face, and Nero can’t help but huff out in amusement. He revs the sword’s engine, far too excited to take all these newcomers on.
"Hey there, demons, it’s me, ya boy!"
—————————————————————————————————
The village remains rather quiet for about four hours after the demon boar disruption, and it’s not until a few people venture out to the wrecked outpost that they notice a figure approaching. His outfit is disheveled, there are scrapes and scratches all over him, but Nero seems to be perfectly fine from whatever venture he’d just come from. His weapons are back in place on his person and it doesn’t look like the damage done was too insane.
"M’lo- Nero. Nero! Are you all right?" He can hear someone calling out to him, and he just laughs a little.
"Me? Yeah, I’m fine. These’ll heal by the end of today, probably." Nevertheless, he’s ushered to one of the homes nearby, some of the residents fretting over him being wounded. Several times he tries to tell them he’ll heal himself, but they won’t hear it and insist on him accepting their hospitality, to which he finally agrees.
It’s finally after a bunch of prodding and healing that they manage to ask him where he’s been. That gets only a grin, with Nero telling them that the village should be safer now- he was escorted to where the demon boars had been living, apparently. With them gone, Basir can now resume its preparation for winter with no fear of losing what they’ve worked so hard to harvest this year.
There’s a loud shout of joy that comes next, followed by some of the villagers running out of the home to go spread the good news. Soon enough, all of them know that their future is looking much brighter. And really? Nero’s glad for it. Fifty boars are nothing to sneeze about, even more so when he considers how he still can’t access all of his powers still. He’s thankful he could stop this from getting even worse. There will be parties and celebrations for all the boars he ended up slaying, and eventually he’ll help Basir bring back the spoils from the creatures so they can use them for their own needs.
But right now? All Nero wants is a nap, head tilting forward as his eyelids close, drifting off into a well-earned sleep.
What: A quest to rescue a poor village from being overrun by feral demon hogs
Where: Basir
When: In between part 1 and part 2 of the harvest fest
Warnings: None, except dumbassery bc it's Nero
"They’ve been a plague for weeks now, m’lord."
Feet propped on the nearest table, arms behind his head, Nero studies the older couple; a man and a woman, who had taken him in for the evening in the small village of Basir. The Priestess had sent him here with the task of clearing out the trouble that seems to be wreaking havoc on these poor people, and the devil hunter had quickly accepted. He needed something to keep him occupied beyond simply visiting Kyst and helping homes in the Moon territory prepare for the change in the seasons. Without needing much more information, he’d managed to make his way to the stables and get directions to the village, which was no more than a day’s worth of riding.
The travel there was pretty uneventful- though Nero has to say it’s a first for him riding on a horse, far too used to moving by foot across different areas. Basir reminds him of the quieter edges of Fortuna; small houses, a tight-knit community, all nestled by a forest with its small lake. The people there seem quiet, but kind, easily welcoming him upon his arrival and ushering him around to show their home and explain the situation. This couple, in particular, seemed eager to take him in, calling his arrival a "blessing" and something "good from the gods," of which he rolled his eyes at the moment they weren’t focusing their attention on him.
Good from the gods, right.
The wife speaks up again, wind picking up outside the door of the small abode. "Winter is approaching quickly, an’ with these demon hogs around, we can’t preserve or save enough crops to keep us tended to durin’ the cold months. Anything you can do to help, m’lord, we’d appreciate it."
Nero leans forward, feet moving off the table to clarify a few things. "First off, drop the 'lord' or whatever fancy things you’ve got for my name- Nero is fine. I’m not a stuffy noble or king, so there’s no need for that." The couple looks at him and then each other, a little uncertain at such informality from someone in the Moon Temple, but they slowly nod. Progress. Nero sighs, thinking just a little. "Secondly, where was the last time they attacked? How many of them were there?"
Demon hogs aren’t something he’s covered, but that doesn’t mean they’re something he won’t do. Besides, they may be a good challenge, and he knows he’s needed that for a while now.
Nero gets his answer promptly. "Old man Tyrus would know. The poor man had one of his animal pens overrun in a stampede recently. He had to keep the boars away from his grain storage, set fire to part of his fields to do it." There’s a grimace at the thought, both of the natives glancing at each other in sympathy. The farmer was lucky- other residents haven’t had quite as good an outcome as his.
"Old man Tyrus, huh. Where’s he live? I’ll head over there tomorrow." It’s handed to him on a piece of paper, and the conversation devolves more into Nero and his home, Fortuna. He tells them about how it’s an isolated island, the people there diligent and focused on living as believers to a god who no longer resides there, and there’s a striking similarity Nero finds between here and home. Not that Sparda ever was a god, he was apparently just there for the founding of Fortuna, and then fucked off to who knows where. It’s absolutely stupid, and the boy had stopped caring or listening to the sermons a long time ago.
Soon enough, the couple bids him goodnight and shows him his room for where he’ll be sleeping. Nero takes to it quickly, settling down on the bed, noting how simple it is, but not really minding all that much. It’s kind of like being in the van, except with less trash and more open space- and far less stuffy than staying by the Temple, that’s for sure. Call him rebellious, but he’s never been a fan of staying too close to where headquarters or where the main head-honcho stays. It feels cramped, too close, almost as if someone’s breathing down his neck constantly. No thanks.
Unfortunately, he's too wired to go to sleep just yet, finding that his mind wanders back to the Qliphoth and what transpired there. Dante and Vergil's agreement, their stubbornness in doing what needed to be done... Nero sighs in aggravation, hands wandering to find a worn book that's familiar, in some ways. He flips it open, the "V" still lit in its golden hue from when he remembers V carrying it around. A page lies bare and he reads, almost absentmindedly.
"I have no name:
I am but two days old."
What shall I call thee?
William Blake. Nero was never one for poetry, not even when he was young. Why Vergil kept this book and considered it so important is beyond him, but he didn’t really have the chance to ask when he needed to beat the shit out of the other.
"Okay old man, what’ve you got in here?" He’s hoping for something to show him more of the man he so desperately wants to know more about, yet is too afraid to ask, should he- no, Nero corrects himself- when he returns.
"I happy am,
Joy is my name."
Sweet joy befall thee!
It’s a book more suited for children, all things considered, which just makes Nero all the more unsure of who exactly his father is. Other than perhaps becoming more of a nerd, he can’t fathom as to why this is a treasured keepsake. Maybe it contains a history of the family? A note about Sparda? Nero lies back on the bed, scoffing, running through the pages again and trying to see if he can read in between the lines. Nothing. Just… poetry. Still, he can’t deny that it belongs to Vergil. Maybe he’ll ask him when he gets back home- whenever that is.
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while;
Sweet joy befall thee!
He drifts to sleep, book on his chest and a pang that aches in his core, still missing two idiots in particular.
Mornings aren’t usually his strong suit, choosing the comfort of sleep over the sunlight showing through the window pane. Nero stubbornly refuses to move, pulling the sheets over his head as he turns to his side and dozes off again.
Or, well, he would, if there wasn’t a bloodcurdling scream echoing through the village at this moment. In an instant he’s awake, Vergil’s book toppling to the floor before he scoops it back up, Nero already shoving on his clothes and grabbing his things. Pushing the door aside quickly, he’s greeted by the couple once more, who have immediately come to him to give him the news. A few demon boars have been spotted near one of the outposts, just inside the village. That’s all he needs, and he runs out into the streets and heads there immediately. A block away, he can hear things crunching and more screaming as people run in the opposite direction, and his blood begins to recognize there’s another devil nearby.
Of course, turning the corner is another story. There are boxes destroyed, hoof marks all over, and a few tools sent scrabbling to the ground- well, it’s a demon boar, all right. And it’s really, really small. No bigger than a cat, at most.
"Look who came to play! It’s okay little guy, I’ll go easy on you- you wouldn’t be much bacon anyhow." He leans down, clapping his hands together like he’s calling a dog to him. The baby demon boar gives a loud snort at the comment, trotting closer and its head butting against Nero’s leg in increasing ferocity. "What, you really want to hit me? That’s cute." The devil hunter hoists the boar up by the scruff of its neck, bringing it eye to eye with him, before chuckling just a little. "Yup, definitely a killer, I can see it in your eyes."
Carefulness is not in the Sparda bloodline, nor is tact. Well, for some of them, anyway.
But it’s with a squeal that Nero feels his blood shift from a whisper to a scream, and a second later he leaps upwards into the air, body twisting as he lets go of the boar-
Just as the mother demon boar crashes through the entire outpost, wrecking it to splinters in an instant. And mom? Mom’s the size of a horse. No wonder these guys have been such a problem.
"You know, much as that was a clever trick, I think it needs work. Both of you guys reek something fierce." Nero lands again on the ground with both feet, a whistle on his lips as he surveys the damage calmly and watches the mother stamp her feet in anger. Had he been a second later, he’d have been gored on the very large tusks she bears. There’s an audible roar from the beast, her going and charging without hesitation, and Nero meets her smack in the face with both his feet, dropkicking her and shoving her several feet back from where she originally was. His eyes wander to the wreck of the outpost, noticing mostly sharp points sticking out, but also some rope and several spare blades about. Which gives him an idea.
The mother boar is furious, recovering and getting on her feet just as Nero winds the rope around one of her tusks, swinging himself over and onto her back, latching the other end of the rope inside her mouth, creating a makeshift bridle. He yanks hard, causing her to try and buck him off her back, and Nero holds on like a cowboy does with a wild bull. There are several hoots and hollers, and he swears he hears laughter that isn’t his, the sight of a red coat flickering out of the corner of his eye. Another pull, and he manages to get her to turn, bounding back towards the forest with him in tow, the baby boar still squealing as it tries to keep up.
Five minutes later, she manages to toss him off, the devil hunter readjusting himself to land on his feet, even as he slides a little on the ground. A hand reaches for Red Queen, bringing her out with a swing, fire igniting on the edge of the blade. As he does, he feels something breathing down his neck, and he whirls, noticing dozens upon dozens of eyes staring back at him in the darkness of the foliage around him.
A smile widens on his face, and Nero can’t help but huff out in amusement. He revs the sword’s engine, far too excited to take all these newcomers on.
"Hey there, demons, it’s me, ya boy!"
The village remains rather quiet for about four hours after the demon boar disruption, and it’s not until a few people venture out to the wrecked outpost that they notice a figure approaching. His outfit is disheveled, there are scrapes and scratches all over him, but Nero seems to be perfectly fine from whatever venture he’d just come from. His weapons are back in place on his person and it doesn’t look like the damage done was too insane.
"M’lo- Nero. Nero! Are you all right?" He can hear someone calling out to him, and he just laughs a little.
"Me? Yeah, I’m fine. These’ll heal by the end of today, probably." Nevertheless, he’s ushered to one of the homes nearby, some of the residents fretting over him being wounded. Several times he tries to tell them he’ll heal himself, but they won’t hear it and insist on him accepting their hospitality, to which he finally agrees.
It’s finally after a bunch of prodding and healing that they manage to ask him where he’s been. That gets only a grin, with Nero telling them that the village should be safer now- he was escorted to where the demon boars had been living, apparently. With them gone, Basir can now resume its preparation for winter with no fear of losing what they’ve worked so hard to harvest this year.
There’s a loud shout of joy that comes next, followed by some of the villagers running out of the home to go spread the good news. Soon enough, all of them know that their future is looking much brighter. And really? Nero’s glad for it. Fifty boars are nothing to sneeze about, even more so when he considers how he still can’t access all of his powers still. He’s thankful he could stop this from getting even worse. There will be parties and celebrations for all the boars he ended up slaying, and eventually he’ll help Basir bring back the spoils from the creatures so they can use them for their own needs.
But right now? All Nero wants is a nap, head tilting forward as his eyelids close, drifting off into a well-earned sleep.