The term noblesse oblige is the concept that nobility extends beyond mere entitlements and requires the person with such status to fulfill social responsibilities, particularly in leadership roles. Sadly, such concept did far too rarely become practiced in the days of dear life. To the highest levels, the Celestial Dragons ran entire criminal cartels without reproach from the law or justice. To the middle levels, royals controlled vast kingdoms in accordance to their own greed-impulsed desires freely with little political intervention. To the lowest levels stood the nobles who flaunted around their wealth and prestige as if it were sea water and pebbles. Some were good and still clinger to the almost ignored concept, but the majority used the tactics of old. Maintain the masses fat with bread and entertain them with circuses. The eldest of controls was so predictably boring it was to disregard it as banal, yet it was effective.

The nobility of the Briss Kingdom was usually self-absorbed and narcissistic. However, the Goldenbaum family, comprised of Duke Goldenbaum, his wife Duchess Goldenbaum and their children, was a case of what should be a noble family. They weren't perfect administrators and occasionally increased taxes on their constituents, but in retrospect, they did give their citizens better homes, better soldiers and a much higher standing of living than most people in said Kingdom. Who is why they were rather well-loved. Despite all this, the Chevaliers family, once another noble family that had eventually fallen from grace after their patriarch became an okama, was desperate to re-gain their aristocratic glory. Yet, even with their hardest efforts, they became nothing but th alighting stock of the kingdom's political elite, hence why their eldest son defected into piracy so he could find a way to assume the nobility he longed for, despite the fact that he would use illegal means. Hence, after becoming a pirate, Marcel Au Chevaliers kidnapped the Duchess of the Goldenbaum family. His intent, to impregnate the matriarch and have her give birth to Chevaliers children who assumed her nobility by her side.

It had been a month since Marcel Chevaliers kidnapped Clarissa Goldenbaum. Soldiers and civilians had volunteered left and right in searching expeditions, but managed to accomplish nothing. In his desperation, the Duke had requested a single marine who had casually appeared on the island a few days ago to take up his case in exchange for money. Th Marine of course would take the job without any pecuniary compensation; his job was helping others when they needed it, but was hesitant about chasing after a former nobleman who might have connections with the Celestial Dragons still. Regardless of this, Damocles Tenebrous bowed to the Duke that he would bring back his wife without any harm done to her, or be his name and pride be cursed by Fate.

The night wasn't the fairest of them all. The crunching winds of a plutonium evening hinted unsubtly at the ominous nature of it all. The setting of it all also made little to quell down any uneasiness Damocles was feeling at the moment. As if to play on the stereotype, the villain had kidnapped the royal and taken her to a big scary castle around an abandoned area of a large kingdom. The large army of weak goons waiting about the orders of their master, the ruined and slightly abused masonry, and even the grim aura of it all, all too banal for the young Marine to raise an eyebrow of concern. He had to clarify, he wasn't afraid of the castle, he was afraid of the night. At least he had a good set of pants set tightly on him.

Damocles tried his hardest he could to hide this slight fear of his. To boot he was all alone standing just meters away from the foreboding demesne. Yet, a part of it all found comfort in the situation. At least he was free from moralities or boundaries. Nobody would make a commotion around a couple of mutilated criminals. The ex-noble on the other hand was not so simple. Their were whispers around the cities that even in disgrace the Chevaliers still had connections with some powerful individuals. "Great...A man with a reputation. God I love my job." thought Damocles to himself as he sheathed his large sword behind the holster on his back and finished putting on his black metal and leather armor.

In paper, the mission was rather simple. Take out the goons, fight the boss and rescue the noble. Yet in practice, this wouldn't be that easy. He couldn't just barge right to the gates, guns blazing and chest puffing. That was an unsigned death warrant. If anything, Damocles thanked the gods that the former owners of the castle had been paranoid enough about exits and commissioned a set of underground tunnels that led from the interior of the dungeon to a cave away from the castle. There was only one problem...the tunnel was dark.

Logically, the first thing Damocles did before entering the 'big, scary tunnel' was turn on a flashlight and attach it to his helmet. This way he could at least see what was right before him. As expected the tunnel  wasn't the most pleasant of experiences. The air was heavy with the smell of god knows what substance and the humidity was killing Damocles. Furthermore, during his initial treks, a couple of rats and small snakes scurried and slithered around, making the huge male grumble to himself in frustration of it all. Still, the muscled Marine pushed through the dirt, plagues and fifth until he reached that small light at the end of the tunnel. Finally, after such a terrible event, the Marine had arrived at the dungeon.

Much to his surprise, the dungeon itself seemed rather vague and empty. Hence, after turning off his flashlight the Marine continued his mission and pushed the rusted and barely standing set of bars with little effort, given their age and advanced stage of oxidation, giving him an entry to the castle. Little did he know that by doing all of this he had made one big mistake. Without noticing it, a visual den den mushi had managed to capture everything and was sending the video transmission to the occupant of the castle, Marcel Au Chevaliers.

"Marine!" screamed a voice as the sound of rushed boots boomed over the halls of the castle. Damocles had keenly heard the rush of the pirates and knew that despite his best efforts, he had been caught. "Oh well, guess theres no point in hiding anymore." said Damocles to himself as he ran towards the set of spiring stairs that led to the ground level of the castle. Each step was a pant and a gasp, mostly due to the effort produced by moving as such speeds and wearing such heavy protection. Yet upon arriving to the floor, and being greeted by a man pointing a musket at him, the armored Marine made a jump for it and unsheathed his sword. What followed was his blade slicing through the head of the man who dared to point a gun at him without any proper training in such tool. Heck the one shot the poor sap had taken missed and he was standing right in front of his target! Regardless of this, the act had been done and now he just had to fight seven more pirates and meet his enemy before rescuing anybody.

To his annoyance, a group of three men, each armed with spears appeared before him. The first man thrusted his halbert towards Damocles's chest. The attack was clean enough and the tip landed upon the breastplate, but did little to penetrate through he thick armor. Meanwhile, the hulking man conked the man with his large fist, crashing him down the floor, before impaling  him through the back with his greatsword. The man still had a means of survival however, had Damocles not removed his blade from the wound, forcing all the blood to spill out in quick spurts. The last thing he had uttered was a set of gurgled curses for he could not even speak with cleared voice.

The second man, in his romantic effort, attempted to have at the Marine by trying to slice the Marine's head off with the metallic tip of the spear. How foolish. Killing an ant that didn't know how to run was well bellow Damocles's salary. He made a mental note to report back to his superiors on how a man tried to kill him via slashing with a piercing weapon. He was sure it would get a couple of good laughs out of some rowdy Marines back in base. This unfortunate soul met his end after Damocles parried off the swing with his metallic gauntlet that rose up to guard his face. For once the attack had been intercepted, the man in black armor moved his sword up, performing an upward slash across the second spearman's chest.

The third spearman had been the smartest of the three. Knowing he stood little to no chance against the hulking swordsman, he turned face and ran, desperately clinging to his life. Damocles by his part smirked and played around with his sword, tapping it a few times on his shoulder as he sat the individual run away. "Oh. We're playing a game of tag now? Come on." Complained the dressrosian as he walked closer and closer to the terrified man. Meanwhile the man who had once stood confidently against Damocles, now had tears welling up in his eyes. His heart beating faster than ever before. His brow filled with swear, his boots crashing against the floor. "Oh enough of this crap.!" said Damocles as he sheathed his sword and pressed a button on his wrist that fired two chains crowned with hooks at them that flew towards the back of the running man. Once the hooks of the chains crunched down on the shoulders of the running man, Damocles grabbed he lengths of the chains and swung his weapons around, forcing his victim to slam against the walls and the tiles and the floor of the area. Eventually he finished torturing the man after pulling the chains back to him, attracting the man towards the Marine who promptly ran his sword right through his gut once he reached his reach. His final words was a petition to let him go. Afterwords that bright red liquid spilled out and stained the ground.

4/8 Tier 0 NPCs, 0/1 Tier 2 NPC

The remaining spearmen were not much of a hassle. In fact, they were less of an obstacle and more of an annoyance. A filfthy claimed abuse of strength tried to come forth and strike Damocles with a sword held in high and swung down steadily. It wasn't until the sword blamed hard against the bare chest and the blade dug into the sinews that he other ant dropped down with eyes held in wide blank stares and mouth slightly agape by shock and pain. It was just a strike to the side, but ti was enough and the cut had been clean. Damocles did always have a principle that if he had to kill, at lease he would make sure to kill as quickly as possible. Just because he was a Marine didn't mean he had to torture people wo were still going to die. Though their were exceptions to this rule however.

As if to make a stronger force, a foolish, blinded attempt to halt the Marine's progress, a coalition of the remaining three soldiers who worked for that dammed nobleman stood before the gate. Arms were raised, hearts were crept back, and a sense of unshakable will straddled their senses. The first man was even taller and heavier than Damocles, raising a great flail around with such ease of nature that it seemed as though this man was but conceived by giant blood. The titanous male growled anomalistically before charging at the marine with the sword. He threw his spiked ball forward and extended is burly arm, attempting to further his reach. Surprisingly, Damocles, now griping his sword with both hands and standing with his legs slightly bent, repelled back the menacing sphere with an impressive downward swing. At this response the man with the flail took offense, doutbitn how a man could even be so bold as to stand strong and take the assault unrelentingly. After the unusual large male recaptured his thoughts, he swung his flail around again, this time aiming at the left.

Damocles by his part knew that if he had been hit by even a single one of these flail attacks, he would take considerable damage. Hence why he switched from an offensive approach to a defensive one, pressing his elbows close to his sides and tightly gripping his blade with both hands. The attack was predictable, but it nevertheless held back some power to it that Damocles was not used to seeing. Still he parried the attack and stayed his ground. The beast of the man then grew impatient and attempted to make swiftly with a quick kill. A swing to the head that Damocles only managed to dodge due to his eyesight. The half-giant then attempted to overpower the Marine by launching a closed fist against the chest of the other. Given the nature of the unexpected approach, Damocles took the punch directly. Even if he wore a suit of heavy armor, he still was pushed back from his former ground and even coughed a bit of blood from his mouth. Clearly, playtime was over.

The hulking man though himself victorious when the sight of the now injured Damocles cough his attention. In celebration he roared and motioned for his two other companions to finish off the Marine. They ran with sabers poised and grins held in wide, bloodthirsty smiles. Yet, Damocles by his own part grinned and stood up. His chest hurt and he knew that at least one of his ribs had been cracked. The Marine nonetheless took back his defensive stance and mocked the trio, calling them out in the most immodest way possible. In their fury, the trio of armed men rushed towards Damocles who kept his form calmed. "Vanity!" said Damocles as he stepped forward and poised his sword behind his back. Once the trio came, only one managed to survive. The slice had once again been clean and neat, but lacked the subtlety of his other attacks. Two heads fell down, smearing the stoned floor with that scarlet liquid that is so essential to life. Of the three only the half-giant survived, who had only done so thanks to him stopping on his heels. Nevertheless, Damocles took the opportunity to finish the other and after jumping up and swinging that ugly slab of metal down, the giant fell down, split into two bloody halves that sprinkle down and engrossed the paved stones.

"Now for the final chapter of this bad comedy." said Damocles as he cleaned up his sword and walked towards the audience chamber of the castle.

7/7 Tier 0 NPCs, 1/1 Tier 1 NPC, 0/2 Tier 2 NPC

Moves Used:

The door that stood before Damocles was pushed open after said Marine appeared before it. With his head readied for battle and his hands crept for an attack, the soldier marched forth. The chamber was a spectacle on itself with a high, cavernous ceiling stretching overhead the carpeted floor. The decorations were bare and minimal, but granted said room an air of ancient grandeur to it. Sitting aloofly on the lonely oaken throne that stood erect inside the grand room, was the nobleman who had fallen from the grace of the king and forced to scurry around in dark actions. Steadily, the man with the tattered, once brilliant, clothes stood up and smiled to his challenger.

"I thought myself fortunate when I heard it in cleared tones that the Marines had taken the course and sprung to meet my challenge." began the former nobleman as he grasped his hands behind his back and stared coldly at the Marine who stood calmed in equal contemplation. "Yet, to my sorrow, I discovered that you had taken the task. A pitiful opponent I come to conclude. A broken slave to a shattered, corrupted order. A slave such as yourself is but ash before the honor of my blood, thusly you are beneath even dirt under my shoes." continued Marcel with his arms moving around.

"Spare me your sophistry! The honor of nobility is but soured by your actions. Vainglorious pomp and haughty dispositions make not one of rightful state." Said Damocles as he crossed his arms and shot his own hard stare against the other.

"Speaks up the brutish bastard who is mocked even by his own subordinates." answered Marcel as he grasped the elegant rapier that neatly sat on the table next to the throne. Damocles by his part felt his own anger rise and with it a burst of emotions erupted.

"Viper of hellish demesne! You shall take back your forked tongue and cease these insults upon me." said Damocles as he equipped his crossbow to his forearm by attaching a metal ring to his arm.

"Lest, suffer what consequence?" challenged Marcel as he took up a form with his sword hand extended forward and his legs slightly bent. Damocles equipped a set of bolts to his crossbow and smirked.

"Lest, we end this in blood." Said Damocles as he aimed his crossbow before his enemy.

"Then come, I welcome the advance." finished Marcel a he swashed his sword in the air, creating a thin sound against the air, announcing his excitement at the prospect of dueling.

The first to attack was the former nobleman. Without giving much of a warning, Marcel propped himself forward for a diving thrust aimed directly at Damocles's chest. Yet, the strong Marine, already perceiving the attack due to his enhanced eyesight, managed to parry the attack by slapping his own sword against the thin blade of the rapier. Furthermore, once at closed distance, Damocles closed a fist and aimed at the other's face. Yet before the punch landed, the thin ex-noble masterfully countered the attack with a high leg kick that overpowered the other's fist. Afterwards, the ex-nobleman tried to deal critical damage to the Marine by performing several stabbing motions of his own, yet was countered by the almost impenetrable defense of the young Marine.

The two were surprisingly equal in terms of swordsmanship. Marcel clearly had the advantage when it came to speed and flexibility, but the same was true foe Damocles when the same was brought up about strength and endurance. However, as much as Damocles wanted to maintain his superiority when ti came to strength, at hand-to-hand combat it was obvious he was at a disadvantage. That single kick alone had more power than any one attack the goons had previously done, except perhaps the ones performed by the half-giant. His best bet was to stay on his defense and wear off the fencer's offensives, only countering when an opening was offered. In summation, he had to avoid any close-range physical offensives and counter his speedy thrusts with his overwhelming might.

"What is the matter, foul beast? You seem to be already hitting down that spot. Perchance this is your requiem." said Marcel proudly boasting of his skill and ability. Meanwhile, Damocles remained stoic and unresponsive.

The next clash was one of sheer power. After thrusting forward with the rapier held firmly in his hands, Marcel launched a compressed blast of air that caught Damocles right off guard and forced him to counter the attack by launching a flashing slash of his own. Marcel's attack was colored silver, while Damocles's was black with a red undertone to it. While it seemed that the ex-noble had the advantage, once again, having the advantage in terms of offensive might, Damocles's flying slash overwhelmed the other's and launched forward, crashing against a wall, leaving behind a small hole that seemed to have enough power as a shotgun. Marcel knew that if he had been caught between the attack, he would had taken considerable damage, but managed to thinly evade the black colored attack. Despite defeating the other in terms of a contest of force, Damocles was considerably more tired than the other. It was clear that Damocles was still inexperienced in the art of throwing aerial blasts, as he was reduced to a panting and tired mess. Marcel by his own part took advantage of the exhaustion from Damocles's attack and finally carved out a clear advantage between him and his challenger.

"Fiore Avento" said Marcel as he took a rather different stance. Adjusting his weight forward, the pirate managed to cut down on Damocles's gauntlet, and greaves. Injuring the left arm and right leg enough to make the other bleed somewhat noticeably. Afterwards, when Damocles countered by ungracefully swinging his large sword in a wide arc which was rather easy to dodge, Marcel twirled his wrists and thrusted forward a number of times, punctuating the armor several times. Each thrust held adequate power to them, but it was the plurality of them that was dangerous, leaving behind five non-fatal stab wounds of small girth and shallow depth on the other's chest. Finally, once the damage had been dealt, Marcel attempted to slice off Damocles's head off, yet, much to his surprise, was met with a parry of unexpected strength.

"I guess I better get serious now." said Damocles as blocked the attack and pushed away the impact, knocking the other off guard. Once the ex-noble was stunned, Damocles ceased the opportunity and stabbed the other several times with his large two-handed sword. While the number of times was less than the ones the pirate deal, they power alone made the offense more dangerous. The cuts had been deep and wide. Afterwards, Damocles kicked the man in the gut and placed some distance between them. Without making a formal announcement of his next attack, Damocles equipped his crossbow on his metal hand and unleashed a string of bolts that buried down the chest of the other. The ex-noble growled in shock and frustration, but knew he had been exposed to a rather high amount of damage.

"You bastard! I'l rip the flesh right off your bones!" threatened the Pirate as he pulling three arrows from his chest, and yanking one off his right shoulder. Now casting away all semblance of defense, Marcel Au Chevaliers began charging his power into one last attack. Unexpectedly, Damocles launched a pair of hooked chains to the other and disturbed the charging process, slamming the once well-groomed male against the bared walls of stone and concrete. Lastly, as the other recovered from the attack, Damocles grabbed his sword with both his hands, dropping the chain before doing so, and began preparing himself for the last attack eh would deal. The wounded and damaged pirate now ran straight ad Damocles and attempted to finish everything with a forward thrust to the other's chest, but it was too late. The sword dropped down, the damage was too great, the Marine finally declared his last attack.

"First Commandment: Deliverance." announced Damocles as the chance of sharpened metal slammed down. Not only had the thin ornate rapier snapped in two, but the former noble was eviscerated, slicing off everything left from his right pectoral, stripping the noble of his entire left arm. The man dropped immediately, his side spewing out rivets of blood. The man desperately tried to stop the bleeding by grasping his wound, but it was to no avail.

"With the injuries you've sustained, you'll bleed out in less than five minutes. Now, I could end your suffering now, or I could let you bleed out and die a painful way. You choose." said Damocles as he wiped off the blood from his sword.

Of course, the dying Marcel Au Chevaliers chose to keep silent and succumb to a painful death than a quick one. Out of sheer spite, he would make Damocles's mission all the more complicated. By this point, the former nobleman died out, but this didn't make the victorious Marine any more pleased. In honesty he would had preferred to have gained one piece of information from the dying man. After all, it made things much easier. Still, it wasn't all bad, after the body became void of life, he robbed the deadman of the set of keys he had once tucked way in his pocket. castle was still a massive place and while their was no danger to it, Damocles knew that it would take him at least two whole hours before he discovered the location of the duchess...much to his annoyance.

At long last, after barging in into all the rooms, chambers and halls (both secret and no-so-secret), Damocles managed to find a path that seemed right. It had been a small, thin passway, nothing too grand or luxurious. Rather it felt like a second tunnel that led to somewhere away from the castle. At least this one didn't smell or have rats on it. At the end of the narrow hallway was a shoddy built door that was scratched and in terrible conditions. Fearing little for his sake, Damocles opened the less-than-inviting door and peered through.

Inside the room was nothing but pitch black darkness coupled with a peculiar marriage of humidity and a striking sharp smell that Damocles could not figure out completely. Given his less than loving relationship with darkness, the young Marine once again re-equipped his flashlight and moved about, trying to find anything at all inside the hot, dark crevice. It seemed as though it had all been in vane nonetheless, until the sound of metal clanking against a wall was heard. A normal man would had ignored the sound, but his curiosity was peaked and he decided to investigate a bit more before discarding the empty room as a waste of time, despite his fear of the dark. Much to his surprise the place was actually larger than he expected. He walked for what felt like one hundred steps, each time hearing the sound of rattling chains more and more clearly, but he still could find nothing other than ruined walls and a dark floor. Yet, at the end of his walk, he came before another wooden door. This time the sound of metal chains was extremely loud, almost frightening the Marine. He wanted to stop and turn back to the more lit up areas of the castle, or at least he thought he was on the castle, but he could not deny his own desire to discover what lied before him. So, after mustering his courage, the young Marine pushed the door and enter.

The sight alone was one that left him speechless. There she was, clothes completely torn away, skin covered in old, dried blood, face barely recognizable, hair ruined and botched, figure skeletal almost gaunt. Damocles didn't know what to do, aside from removing the chain from her hands. She was so weak, so thin. Without thinking it twice, he snatched her up like a bride and carried her away from her own personal Tartarus. He didn't know whether or not she would recover from the experience, but he knew that for now, she was safe.