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A Righteous Infliction of Retribution; Shane and Valcan - Closed
Topic Started: Mar 9 2009, 12:35 AM (1,266 Views)
Valcan Drage
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Former MoM of Norway
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Valcan had no time to reply to Shane's outburst. Instead, he worked at the ropes about him, and after a moment of wandless magic they fell away. He knew that younger man, who was currently jabbing a wand in the elder's face, would not hesitate to curse him. Moving incredibly quickly for someone who was so large, he dodged the curse that his great nephew had sent his way. Having no time to grab for his wand, he gripped the edges of the desk, and with a grunt turned it over, the heavy piece of furnishing toppling over. Everything on the surface slid off in a great mess of paper, ink and writing utensils.

Valcan stepped back, his hand darting into his robes for his wand. Pulling it out, he pointed it at Shane, attempting to anticipate his next move. "That was not smart of you, boy," he spat poisonously, "Although with that doddering idiot of a grandfather that raised you, I can't say I'm too surprised."
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Shane Stark
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Sophia Stark's older Professional Quidditch playing brother
[ *  *  * ]
Shane had definitely not been expecting Valcan to get free of the ropes, let alone jump up and overturn the desk. As he was not exactly a skilled dueler the former Gryffindor was at quite the disadvantage. He jumped when the desk crashed down to the floor, not at all fast enough to keep Valcan from getting his wand out. This was certainly not how things were supposed to go. Shane kept his wand pointed toward Valcan, hoping to keep things at a draw for now.

"You know, I'm getting pretty sick of your insults. You seem to have a lot of words to describe Ishmael but nothing to actually say. I bet you don't know anything. You're just making asinine remarks for the fun of it." There was a glint in Shane's eyes as he said this, glaring at Valcan the whole time. It no longer bothered him that his great uncle insisted on calling him boy, he was too preoccupied with avenging Ishmael.
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Valcan Drage
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Former MoM of Norway
[ *  *  *  *  * ]
Valcan smirked, his arm held out straight and pointed at his great nephew's chest. He didn't want things to get any worse, although he wouldn't have minded teaching the boy a lesson. His chuckle was hollow and menacing. "Well, now that I've done off with him, I've got nothing but insults to hit my sister's murderer with, now do I?"

His gaze was cold and penetrating as he stared back at the boy, the amusement slipping from his expression as smoothly as oil. Valcan had been protective of Larkana in life and, now it seemed, after death. Even if he didn't believe it, he wasn't going to let Shane walk away without the knowledge of what his grandfather had really did, just as he had done with Sammael.


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Shane Stark
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Sophia Stark's older Professional Quidditch playing brother
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Shane's face fell as Valcan's words hit his ears. His left arm dropped slightly, lowering his wand as he took in what was just said. His grandfather, the man who had taken him in, was being accused of murder. There's no way in hell that's true. Shane regained him composure, stiffening his arm and pointing his wand straight at Valcan's face.

"LIAR! No wonder my father was such a terrible man, he was raised by you." Outraged by the constant lies Valcan was giving Shane suddenly flourished his wand at the man and yelled "stupefy!" hoping to catch the old man off-guard.
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Valcan Drage
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Valcan's expression was smug as he looked back to his great nephew. "I suppose that he told you she died in childbirth," he goaded, "That's the same lie he told everybody else."

The man's meaty fingers curled tightly around his wand as Shane rose his voice. His arm trailed in one fluid movement, his wand merely an extension of that limb. He managed to use a Shield spell to deflect Shane's spell. "Stupefy? I must say that I am insulted. Is there no room for creativity?"

Without hesitation, Valcan send Obscuro towards Shane, hoping that he would delay him a bit. Something inside was deterring him from harming the boy, but by no means would he begrudge himself a bit of fun.
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Shane Stark
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Sophia Stark's older Professional Quidditch playing brother
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A growl rose in Shane's throat as Valcan continued to accuse Ishmael of murder. There was no way he had been lied to about something like that. Ishmael was not a bad man. Was he? Shane had never really understood why his father had been raised by Valcan, but it was easier not to ask. The fact that Valcan might actually be right only served to make Shane more furious.

The growl escaped as the spell hit him, completely blocking his vision. "Damnit!" he yelled, frustrated at having been hit. His initial thought was to try and remind the blindfold, but the former Gryffindor knew that was no good. Beside, he wanted to hurt Valcan. The pyro in him took over and Shane cast one of his favorite spells, Incendio. Since he couldn't see Shane took to waving his wand at random, moving around and hoping to light as much as possible.
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Valcan Drage
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Valcan was pleased as the blindfold wrapped about Shane's eyes, rather content with his spellwork. However, he was not so happy when his great nephew turned on his office, assaulting a bookcase and then an expensive painting that hung behind his desk. His first reaction was to cast Aguamenti, but he had to put out the threat first. Casting Expelliarmus to hopefully rid Shane of his weapon, he sent Expulso the boy's way, taking care not to seriously maim the boy, only cause him a small amount of pain. "Children are not supposed to play with fire," he snarled, attempting to vanquish the flames, grimacing at the damage that Shane was causing.
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Shane Stark
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Sophia Stark's older Professional Quidditch playing brother
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Things were not going too well for Shane at this point. Even though he had started to cause some damage his wand flew out of his hand. Because of the blindfold he had not been able to anticipate the spell. He was also unable to anticipate the next spell, which sent him flying backwards into a wall. The brunette let out a grunt as she sat slumped on the floor, still blindfolded. The wind had been knocked out of him, but other than that the only thing hurting was Shane's pride.

"All right old man, you win. Will you please get this blindfold off me now?" Shane was obviously frustrated. He had never really expected to win against Valcan, but he had certainly been hoping for better than this.
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Valcan Drage
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Valcan managed to put out the last fire with Aguamenti, absolutely relieved that Shane had not hit the family tree. He would have to get a new bookcase, and the tapestry was beyond repair. He summoned the young man's wand to him, and after jamming it in his pocket he approached the boy. He smirked as Shane spoke, able to detect the high level of frustration in his voice.

Tearing the blindfold from the young man's face none too gently- he was rather annoyed about the damage to his office- he took a step back. He kept an eye trained on his great nephew, anticipating his next move. Shane would be in a world of hurt if he tried anything funny.

After a moment's hesitation, he started, "There, you have it off. Whether or not you will accept the truth is not up to me. Ishmael killed Larkana days after she gave birth to your father. Take a look at the tree if you don't believe me." This was one of the things that Valcan had realized after he had taken Sammael in, that the dates to Ishmael's story didn't match up. He had then sworn to kill the man if he ever stepped foot in the Herrogard, ever again.


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Shane Stark
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Sophia Stark's older Professional Quidditch playing brother
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A strange mix of pain and relief filled the young man as the blindfold was ripped off of his face. It hurt, but at least he could see. He glared up at his great uncle, rage radiating off of him. His first thought was to jump up and tackle the old man. After all, Shane was a professional athlete, and probably considerably more in shape than Valcan. But then the old man spoke, and Shane was intrigued. Could he really be telling the truth?

Shane got to his feet slowly, making sure not to make any sudden movements so that Valcan would not think he was trying anything. He looked up at the man, still angry but not unwilling to see reason. "Show me," he said, determined to see if there was an truth in what Valcan was claiming.
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Valcan Drage
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Pleased that he seemed to have at least planted a seed of doubt in his great nephew, Valcan took a few steps forward. His finger searching out the bottom of the tree, it trailed down to Larkana's name. Under Larkana Maeva Drage, was a birth date and a death date. "Here," he started, "Larkana died on December the second of 1978." He paused as his pointer finger trailed down the line, landing on Sammael's name. "Sam was born on November the twenty-ninth."

The old man turned to look at Shane, observing him. These dates were concrete evidence enough for Valcan, but he didn't know how the younger was going to react. "Larkana was healthy after she gave birth to your father. You can call Tinker if you don't believe me." His sister's house elf had come to him the night Ishmael had brought Sam over. With Larkana dead, Sam had become his charge.
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Shane Stark
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Shane turned and stepped toward the tree with Valcan, anxious to get a look at it. He desperately wanted his great uncle to be wrong, but the sneaking suspicion that Valcan was right was growing stronger in Shane. He turned his brown eyes on the tree, following Valcan's finger to the dates. They didn't line up. The brunette stared at his father's name, not wanting to believe this.

He thought of protesting until Valcan brought up Tinker. The house elf had been in Stark Manor while Shane was growing up there and he knew there would be no lies from Tinker. Grief and anger filled the young man as he continued to stare at the tree. Why could nothing in his life be simple, or make one iota of sense? Shane drew back his left hand and punched the wall with a grunt of frustration. It didn't really help, but it sure felt good to do.

Turning to Valcan Shane glared up at him. He was no longer angry at his great uncle, but instead his grandfather. "It doesn't make any sense. Why would he kill her?"
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Valcan Drage
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Valcan's expression was devoid of all smugness as he looked back to his great nephew, observing him. He was still touchy when it came to his sister, as he always had been. His father and Ishmael had both died over the matter, but in the end, it didn't bring her back. But what was he supposed to expect? All he really had was his retribution, and it still left him feeling empty. A thousand deaths would never replace the hole in his heart.

His lips pursed, he replied, "I honestly, never really knew. His reasoning was that he thought she was with another man," Valcan wanted to add before I killed him, but he knew that would only infuriate Shane, "But Larkana wasn't that kind of person. She was never happy with Ishmael. If she wasn't there, she spent her time here or at a friend's." His expression darkened considerably, his accent thickening. "And no matter the reason, he had no right to take my sister's life, nor to deny Sam a mother. He received his due."

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Shane Stark
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Shane turned her gaze to the side, staring angrily off at nothing in particular. This was a lot of information to process. The man who had taken him in so kindly when his father cast him out was a murderer. It made no sense to Shane, who had been so found of Ishmael. But the evidence added up against him.

As he started to accept that Valcan was right about Ishmael new questions popped up in Shane's head. He turned to look up at his great uncle, his brows furrowed in confusion. "If he was as bad as you say, why did he take me in?"
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Valcan Drage
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Valcan glanced back at Shane. He was taking great measures to hide his surprise that the young man was acting civil. For the older having murdered the boy's grandfather, Shane was behaving rather calmly. His lip pursed as he took in the question, knowing that that was one that could take a long time to answer. After a few moments of hesitation, he replied, "Ishmael wasn't ready to take care of a child by himself, and I don't think he took into account until after he gave Sammael up that he wouldn't have an heir. Since Sam didn't have any contact with Ishmael, you were the next best candidate." The large man shrugged, frowning as he examined the damage done to his bookcase. He would have to purchase a new one. "I've always wondered why he took you in myself, so that's my best educated guess."
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