Warf Tavern

Daemon, or Straga knew of what he spoke and the consequences, the dying assassin even went to mutter his name in his final moments and it was definitely loud enough for the Prince to hear, though Dante was no idiot, the boy was clever, too clever and Straga had all but figured he would come to the conclusion of who Daemon really was with just the few words he himself uttered. Straga could curse himself for letting such information slip, but really, he cared so little that Dante heard for the look of fear and anguish in the would be killers face satisfied him to no end. It always did.

There was a pause as Straga considered what he would do next, the words of the Prince falling across his ears as the slow dripping of fresh blood fell from the tip of his blade. The pressure remained, though it was only stifling to those that feared rumer and myths, but the reality was, Straga lived up to the stories, maybe not in ages but definitely in murderous intent and a lack of compassion to his fellow man. With a slow turn, he walked towards the Prince and his owl, his steps deliberate, the same predatory stroll he gained when approaching the now dead assassin, the tip of his sword dragging along the stone ground beneath them. The thought of killing Dante rolling through his mind like a wave, part of it a pleasurable sadistic feel, the other a twinge of annoyance for he had grown to like the boy.

Stopping a few feet from Dante, Straga's sword came to life again with another flick of his wrist, the tip pointing towards the Prince's throat, his one seeing eye narrowing some as he regarded the solid wall of muscle before him. Killing Dante would not be easy, even if he was injured he was far larger than Straga, not that his size intimidated the Pirate, but his strength was nothing to be scoffed at, plus, his shoulder was already shattered.

Still he remained silent, staring at the Prince's eyes, the sword still raised but not shaking, the red liquid still dripping until suddenly, Straga slashed it through the air, ridding it of blood before sliding it into its sheath once again. As quickly as the sword was sheathed, the very air around the smaller male lifted as his eye closed and his now free hand scratched the back of his head, a laugh rolling from his lips as he slightly tilted to the side.

"You caught me. I'm a phoenix. Just keep coming back over and over." Holding his hand out to Dante, offering it to shake he continued to smile. "Capt'n Straga, immortal pirate, owner of The Wraith and leader of a motley crew of murderers, rapists and all round good chaps, pleasure to meet you Prince Dante."

When the Prince would take the pirates hand, Straga tugged him down and closer so he could talk a bit quieter, his tone dropping from it's regained merriment. "Let's just keep this new discovery between us, eh Danny? Wouldn't want anything bad to happen on this little Island of yours." The meaning was clear, there was no mistaking what Straga meant and the intent behind his words, though as he leaned back his mood returned, like the flip of a switch. "So, let's just stick with Daemon, whatdya say?" His face was a broad smile, his eye returning to a drunken haze, that now seemed rather misplaced given the previous events of what just occurred, though the pirate seemed to slip in and out of such demeanors with so much easy it was almost startling to behold.

Blood was already starting to clot in the shallow wound on his hip; another nick and scrap to add to the bunch. As far as Dante was concerned he had only one real scar and it was bestowed on him by his cousin, everything else was just minor scrapes and scratches which held no lesson behind them. The lesson he wore on his back, from shoulder to hip, was one that kept him alive thus far. Well for the most part. Most men were not Kainen and when Dante knocked them down they tended to stay down, but at least he’d learned the difference. He’d learn to take note of the damage he was capable of inflicting and the man he was fighting. Since his days with Straga he’d met a few men with the same tenacity as Kainen, men that kept coming until you finally swallowed that lump in your throat that told you were still human and put them down for good.

All the while Dante stood like a statue watching the man before him morph into something else entirely. The Dread Pirate Straga was just that, something to dread. Dread the appearance of this bloodlusting creature. Dread the appearance of his gold hording, take no prisoner crew. Most of all, dread when a man turned from fun loving to killer. Comprehension of the situation in front of him had yet to be fully realized, no, not fully realized, just accepted, when Straga turned from the stuck pig that once as a man, an assassin, to Dante. Immediately Wise was unsettled, puffing up with his beak half open, but Dante didn’t move, even as Straga advanced on him. He wasn’t going to hurt Straga… anymore, and that first time had been a complete accident, and he really didn’t want to have to fight the man for the right to live past the bomb of information that had been dropped on him.

A split second before the blade found his throat at a deadly closeness, Dante took a breath, as if to break the silence between them. He couldn’t exhale now, it would mean his own death and yet still he didn’t move save for the lengthening of his neck instinctively and his luminescent blue eyes locked with his friend. Former friend? Friend. Wise puffed up more, but with Dante still the bird simply remained in attack mode; poised and ready. Very slowly his neck started to stretch toward the pirate, beak still half open. The moment, which seemed like ages long, that the sword was sheathed, Wise attacked. Squawking and flapping in Daemon’s face with the wrath of a mother hen. Maybe Wise was a girl; a problem for another time. Dante gathered the bird in his hands, smoothing down its feathers, as he watched Straga magically reform into Daemon.

Wise was resting in the palm of his hand when Daemon turned and offered his introduction to this new personality. Dante cracked a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes, his head was too deep in thought, and took the man’s arm. He leaned into Daemon’s pull watching the shadow of the Dread Pirate light up his eyes when spoke his warning, then quickly fade back into some deep, dark part of his friend.

Dante nodded.