Birds of Sun, Sea and Wind chirped and circled high above in the crystal-clear skies of the island, with some occasionally swooping down to snug some fish from a few unfortunate vendors and fishermen who cursed in the little unpleasant fellows' wakes. Cargo ships, Icebreakers, Dhow, Junk ships and more lined Bobby Island's Port like soldiers in formation. Some bobbed leisurely in the gleaming azure waters, while others blasted and blared their horns in communication of different signals.
Activity was everywhere. Every inch of the Port was bustling as fishermen, traders and travellers perambulated about or haggled at one another.
Bobby island, located in the Neutral Domain, Communal Zone: Eastern Sector, though small and partially secluded, had a population that consisted of both Kinsmen and Maverick descendants settled around its rich West Coast. The isle flourished and blossomed through its affluent sea trades and businesses- the most notable being its widely recognised Bobb Port, which garnered the island its nickname: Fish Island.
Though the island 'surrounding rough terrain and unpredictable waters played a role in the atoll's isolation, its open seclusion was well known for being due to its proximity to Dolly Clan Domain Waters- an uncomfortable fact for some, an imminent threat for many, but a golden opportunity for one...
On this generally peaceful island, hidden deep within the Eastern Dead Forest lied a Fortress, a prison of impenetrable stone called the Stone Heaven, a detention established by the Angels.
Because when there is a God, there's a Devil. But to whom, which is which?
To countless present and dead, Sovereign Crown Doya D. Godfather represents not strength or courage, but what it truly means when a person loses their humanity- when mankind falls into depravity.
The existence of the Clans was, to a multifarious number of people, simply putting it... a problem. Some worship the Giants, while others fear them, and then there are those that go beyond... and oppose them. Such are ...
''The Angels Denied Heaven'.
The largest anti-Clan organisation in the world.
They do not see the Clans as 'evil' in the sense, instead they believe the tribes are 'ill'- sufferers of a complex disease that deprives them of all that once made them human and drives their lost souls into madness. They see the ailment as supernatural- a Curse of the Devil that must be cured. And by who?
Them, of course. The Messengers, Warriors and Children of the True God the Clans continue to defile with their blasphemy and treachery. To the Angels, the Clans are known as:
'They Who Hunger To No End- The Fallen'
The organisation itself was founded some thirty years ago to be established as 'Freedom Defenders'- one of the first and few groups fighting to repress and resist Sovereign Crown Godfather's takeover of the world. But, after the Crown's mysterious passing, many of the few remaining groups who hadn't been eradicated by the Sovereign saw no point in continuing the fight or advocating; after all, their purpose and aim was to stop Godfather only, not spark a war with all three Giants, who had quickly separated following the Ruler's funeral.
The Clans showed no signs of continuing their Crown's mission and instead seemed to be at odds with one other, which led many to feel comfortable- to think the danger was somehow over as the predators focused solely on biting and tearing at each other. And so, these Resistance groups dissolved into histories and tales.
But the rest; they saw the Clans' disorientation and struggle to maintain internal stability as a golden opportunity. The Three Giants were too prideful and arrogant to agree on continuing their united front or appointing new leadership, which led to internal conflict as they drifted further and further apart.
The few kin-eyed organised fighter groups that remained took the chance and merged, merged and advanced to become beings that could not just advocate, but put up a fight proper against the Clans: The Weapons of the True God and Curers of the Cursed: The Angels Denied Heaven by The Fallen.
While the Giants were in turmoil, the Angels rose, took advantage of their knowledge- the Clans' knowledge, and created a counter-system, a system that can rival Virtues: Merits. Though little is currently known about these Merits or how exactly they rival the Gifts of the Virtues, the Angels have made one thing clear: they are vehemently against the idea of a Crown ruling all three Clans. They elucidated: under their eyes and blades... Godfather will never return under a different ill soul.
Though the Clans refuse to directly acknowledge the Angels or anyone as a threat, currently any and all members of the organization are forbidden from entering any Clan Domains and are to be executed on site if they were to break this law and trespass. So, most of their detentions and holds are on islands such as Bobby, close to the Clans- very, very close, but not within. Some say they are trying to plant spies to keep tabs on any potential Crown candidates and even assassinate anyone who dares to consider it. However, in the end, it is all unclear due to the sheer secrecy of the organisation.
***
Back in Bobb Port, on one of the many clustered docks, a small wooden boat in such terrible condition it left many passersby in awe of how it even remained floating rocked leisurely in the water as a tall and slender young man strode on the deck with booming steps.
His ankle-length, dagger-tipped braid, styled to resemble the essence of a scorpion's tail as best as possible, swayed dramatically in the breeze. The inhuman paleness of his skin contrasted sharply with the dark markings that covered his limbs: from the very edges of each elbow to the tips of his fingers, and once more from his ankles until obscured by his shoes were 'markings' of crimson-black ink on his skin.
The man strutted with swagger as he wore a form-fitting dark grey shirt that showcased his belly, long and toned arms, and shoulders. The back of the shirt featured a cut that was reconnected with a thick black string arranged in a zigzag pattern, leaving portions of his skin exposed. For his bottoms, he adorned loose black pants that were also cut along the sides and laced back together in a similar style to the shirt, subtly revealing his legs and thighs.
However, it was not his flamboyant way of dressing that stopped most in their tracks and left many in awe as he walked by; but his face. His eyes, big and round, were a dark shade of emerald, whilst his face was soft yet sharp with a charm and beauty often attributed to women rather than men. He was a man many would describe as having a beautifully handsome appearance.
[Name: Dolly B. Dolffie]
[Clan: Dolly]
[Virtue: Dominion]
[Rank: Monarch-level Sovereign]
[Gift: Alabasta]
"Hihii", Dolffie smirked as he beheld Bobby Coast Village. Though he was now miles away from the bustling port and coast, the tangy, yet somewhat pleasant aroma of fish and salty sea still lingered, just now, with a hint of lovely spice and ale.
The Village itself was by no means large or elaborate; it surprisingly took a simplistic approach that appeared to lack much in terms of modernity or notable innovations. The houses and properties were all closely spaced and seemed to have been constructed from a mixture of varying limestone, fieldstone, granite and sandstone.
The distance of the property from the shore and Port seemed to signify the socio-economic status of the residents, ranging from multi-story buildings in the deep areas closer to the bustling heart of the village to single-room or multi-room homes in the outer areas nearest the shore and Port.
The construction incorporated elements like flat roofs and courtyards. In the areas that lied more in-between, the homes had more distinct, multi-functional rooms, sometimes with open-plan designs. Inner and Middle-area homes often featured central courtyards and flat roofs, which seemed to also serve as additional living or sleeping areas for residents.
The isle was truly deserving of its credits and reputation, Dolffie admired.
"Truly beautiful," he commented as he marvelled at the Inner Market, a glorious realm of falsehoods, fraud, mysteries, thievery and wonder situated just outside the village heart. The dark parts aside, unlike the Outer areas, the Inner areas appeared more classy, refined; even as the people haggled and argued with each other, they still seemed to maintain a sense of elegance and calm.
The sight was intriguing to Dolffie, but sadly, it wasn't what he was there for.
"Onto business, " he sucked in a quick breath and smacked his face.
"Right." He made a point to markedly caress and adjust his braid while subtly looking around. He took note of any watchful or lingering gazes- there were a few of course: pickpockets and thugs mostly, the rest were simply kin-eyed, customer-hungry venders and sellers. He stroked his braid leisurely once more before flinging it back and carefully making his way through the crowd, patient and cautious to lose the thieves on the move.
He let out a sigh of relief when he walked into a mildly dark alley between two seemingly abandoned buildings; vendors and spying pickpockets successfully evaded...
***
At a distant stall, a hooded stranger with kin and sharp crimson eyes quietly watched Dolffie, their gaze lingering on his exposed, crimson-stained limbs before their lips parted into a covetous grin. The stranger patiently watched the young man fling his dramatically long, dagger-tipped braid back and stroll off into the dim alley before they followed.
***
Dolffie leaned against one of the buildings, the horrid construction rough and unpleasant on his particularly exposed back, though he appreciated the coolness. His unnervingly pale skin wasn't faring well in this torturously scotching weather. He was already sweating like a pig and cursed himself for not wearing proper protection as he pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper from a hidden pocket along the calf of his pants.
He looked around, assessing the alleyway, which was primarily dim and covered in debris and rubble.
All was clear and not a soul in sight.
He let out another sign of relief, letting his shoulders sag before he brought his gaze back to the folded paper and stared… and stared. Everything went quiet: the teeming chatter became shy whispers, the wind went from a howl to a breeze. Silence. The world seemed to stop moving as Dolffie looked at the paper, its slightly scratched surface mirrored in his eyes, which, for a slit second, shifted colour: from dark emerald to empty grey.
His face was sombre, dark, as he gently stroked the folded paper before unravelling it to reveal a map- a small, but incredibly well-crafted map of Bobby Island. It was perfectly and beautifully drawn with an amazing balance of detail alongside a clean and unique, bright aesthetic.
"I've arrived at Fish Island. Now show me where he is." Dolffie sternly commanded before the map's ink seemed to warp and distort as the marginalia depicted a different illustration- a new map… of the Stone Heaven Detention, deep within Bobby Island's Eastern Dead Forest.
Dolffie scoffed as he beheld the precise location of the Prison, highlighted in red by the shifting ink. He had of course known it wouldn't be easy retrieving his target, but now, things had taken a vulnerable and complicated turn. After all, there was a reason Bobby Islanders only inhabited the island's western coasts and regions- a very good reason, he knew that much… and so did the Angels, it seemed.
He scanned the map once, twice, thrice more looking for a solution, a new route, but found none. For an unwanted guest, the detention offered only one way in and out: the front gate.
Even Heaven and its Angels, it seemed, wanted him to draw blood.
He could only imagine the number of Angels, even Arch-Angels, guarding his treasure.
"What a pain...I just got these shoes," He sighed in exasperation before briefly closing his eyes and turning back to the red dot.
The more people there to stop him, the more blood to taint his already rotting limbs… and heart.