You enter the forest clearing to find a scattering of tents. They range from luxurious green and yellow silk in the centre to a tattered, dirty scrap of cloth, stretched over the moss in the rocks several feet away from the others. What do you do? >>
By the time Morris achieves Timeless Body (or has Timeless Body thrust upon him), he and the Marquis know each other exceptionally well. Well enough for the Marquis to admit that, in their late middle age and after dying once already, they have developed what is considered in House Skullduggan to be a critical character flaw: a fear of their own mortality. This moment of vulnerability is rapidly undermined by the Marquis demanding to know whether rats feel existential dread, and they refuse to speak on the subject again, but it becomes a lasting memory for Morris, particularly when the Marquis dies -- permanently this time -- not long afterwards.
-
Morris, you're going to live forever now, yeah?
Uh, a long time, probably.
You'll make sure people don't forget us, right?
What?
You know. The Skullduggans. When everything's changed and the kingdom's gone and there aren't any noble houses any more.
I guess. Why?
Because… Because I don't want to be forgotten. I don't want to be gone. I don't want to die, Pol.
Ever since the Firefly Queen developed her interest in him, Morris has had to be watchful around any collection of glittering lights. That could be nothing more the reflection of the sun on an ocean wave, the light between tree branches in a forest, the sparkle of golden jewellery -- or it could be a sign that the Firefly Queen is about to materialise on this plane of existence. It definitely means she is able to watch him.
The longer this goes on, the more paranoid he becomes about it. At its worst point, he flinches when people cast Dancing Lights without warning, develops compulsive habits and tics, and starts casting Darkvision on himself rather than using druidcraft to light a candle. It also contributes to his decision to remain living in the sewers and back alleys even after his acquaintances offer him shelter. The stained glass windows and fountains in the temple unsettle him, and the Skullduggans carry too much finely polished weaponry.
He does get over it, eventually, through a combination of exposure, time, and certain quest developments. It also never quite deadens the allure of a glittering pile of gold.
When it becomes clear that returning Skullduggan to their usual body is going to take some time and they are stuck as a skeleton for the forseeable future, they don't take the news well. They blame the cleric Sophie for reviving them incorrectly and become generally irritable and impatient (or moreso than usual, anyway).
At one point they go to Morris, asking for advice on how he handles his body changing into different forms when he wildshapes. Morris, who historically has a fear of undead creatures, did not imagine that he would one day have to explain his discomfort in his own skin to a sentient skeleton over a cup of tea, and isn't entirely sure how to put it into words. The unspoken realisation that he doesn't need to adds yet another layer of sympathy with the Marquis which he will never be able to explain to anyone, least of all them.
You might think that after this experience, the Marquis might come up with fewer plans which involve Morris wildshaping into something massive and full of teeth. They do not. Maybe they really do possess such little empathy and awareness, or maybe, in the way of most Skullduggans, they believe that the only way to handle discomfort is to barrel through it and bury the trauma deep down inside, and that they are simply encouraging Morris to do this.
((I don't even know where to begin describing the utter chaos which was our group BG3 session today.))
The plan: finish the bank vault quest, start the Stone Lord quest.
What happened:
We rock up at the bank. Our wizard, whom we all keep thinking is a bard because he changed his class a few sessions ago, fails all the checks persuading the teller to let us into the vaults.
We discover that Tozbarb has the highest charisma. I also fail all the checks.
I -- the barbarian -- sneak upstairs successfully. Our rogue follows and immediately alerts all of the guards.
I run away. He steals the vault pass in plain sight of the guards. He and the wizard murder their way through the upper floor while I sneak round the back.
I trigger the guards on the lower floor after throwing the door open. Our two fights merge into a massive bank brawl.
"Basically, we walked up, said "WE'RE HERE TO BREAK INTO THE VAULTS PLEASE", and then tried to walk straight in."
After we've been slaughtered, we reload. This time I pass the checks and get the vault pass. I open the gate down into the vaults and get stopped by the guard. While I'm showing her my vault pass, the rogue has already strolled in... which triggers the guards, because he doesn't have a vault pass to show them.
We reload again. This time we get into the vaults, although the rogue misclicks on his way down, attempts to disarm the traps, and triggers all the guards on the upper floor. Once in, we clown around for half an hour with the wizard failing to cast Jump on the rogue to get past the magical wards and the rogue lockpicking chests I've already smashed open.
Eventually the rogue gets stuck inside a cage. The wizard goes to buy another Dimension Door scroll. While he's gone, I discover a Dimension Door scroll in my pocket, so Tozbarb springs the rogue.
We finally get into the big fight in that area and, amazingly, pass it. I leave to sell loot in the alchemist shop. I hear dice rolling for initiative.
When I leave, the wizard and the rogue are fighting the citizens Mizora turns against you. I jump in to help them, use an AoE attack to get both people left at once, and accidentally murder a citizen. Now the entire city guard is trying to kill us.
The wizard and the rogue flee to camp; Jaheira and Tozbarb get arrested. There are 2 methods of escape from our cell: a broken wall which I can't damage with my fists and a pipe I can't fit into. I interact with a brazier instead, trying to extinguish it for extra sneakage, which annoys the guard.
I quicksave and explore other options. I realise I can Misty Step into the next cell, so I give that a try. The next cell has 0 methods of escape.
"I just moved myself from a cell with two built in escape methods to a cell with none."
"Excuse me, Mr Guard! I noticed a few flaws in this cell, so I've taken the liberty of moving myself into a better one."
"I can't even reach the brazier here so I'll be of no further bother to you."
I reload back to the save after messing around with the brazier and send Jaheira through the pipe as a cat. This takes her to the next cell where, still a cat, she is able to pick up a smokepowder barrel and send it to Tozbarb. I set it beside the cracked wall and look for something to throw at it. There's nothing on the floor, so I look inside the box in the cell.
This box is marked as a crime to touch, so looking inside the box annoys the guard again. Normally, because I have already annoyed him once, he would arrest me at this point, but I have already been arrested. The paradox this creates for him softlocks the game.
Or perhaps the game has been softlocked by the rogue, who has entered "a huge room which is completely empty except for a man named Big Clive". Whatever the reason, the plan for our next session is, step one: prison break, step two: kill the true BBEG, Big Clive.
Morris awoke to darkness and a clandestine rustling in the tent next door to his own. Since that tent belonged to Skullduggan, and Skullduggan had never been known to do anything which could even generously be described as clandestine, he nudged the rats off his chest and crept away from his bedroll.
Stars shimmered across the sky outside. Morris tried to ignore them. After the events of the last few days, from Sabrinei's betrayal to the explosive argument between Skullduggan and Zazka that evening, the last thing they needed was to get the Firefly Queen involved. Fortunately the camp remained still, with no movement from Sophie and Zazka's tent, either, and Morris was able to creep up to the flap of Skullduggan's unnoticed, where he paused. Skullduggan let themself into everybody else's tents as if they lived there, but trespassing inside their green and yellow silk was a dangerous game. Especially tonight. Some of the words they had chosen to sling at Zazka were still ringing in Morris's ears.
The noise continued. Morris waited for the moment Skullduggan woke up, for the crunch of metal on flesh. Nothing. He sighed, readied magic at his fingertips, and inched the flap aside.
A small candle flickered inside a lantern, too weak to glow through the panels of the tent but enough to make Morris stop. As his eyes adjusted, he immediately regretted his decision to investigate, and knew just as quickly that it was too late to turn back. Skullduggan was definitely awake. Their skeletal form still froze Morris's heart in his chest for a moment, even when it was wearing pyjama bottoms and an open silk robe. They were clutching at a bundle of red-stained clothes, muttering and cursing while they tried, as far as Morris could tell, to stuff the bundle inside their own hollow ribcage. The sight did not reassure him.
Predictably, inevitably, as soon as he tried to draw back the skeleton raised their head and a pair of empty sockets stared straight at him. It was like staring into a coffin. Morris shivered. Skullduggan's expression didn't, couldn't, change, locked by the bone into a permanent death stare.
'What do you want?'
'Nothing. Thought I heard a sound. I'll go.'
'Don't be a coward.' They threw the bundle onto the ground and flopped backwards against it. 'Come in, as long as you don't have any rats with you. You'll wake everyone up if you just stand there.'
Morris ducked inside and knelt next to Skullduggan. There was plenty of room for the two of them. Despite how frequently they professed their family's poverty relative to the other noble Houses, Skullduggan could still find the funds for a twist of magic in the tent they carried, allowing them enough room to stretch out and lounge against a variety of pillows without having to lug them around in their pack or, more probably, having to hire a servant to lug their pack around for them. Up until recently the extra space had been taken up by Sabrinei. Morris carefully did not look at one of her scarves, still folded neatly in a corner.
That meant looking at Skullduggan instead, which was hardly preferable. They continued to stare at Morris with the empty holes.
'Go on. Ask,' they demanded. Morris scratched his ear.
'What're you doing?'
'I don't know.'
He knew Skullduggan wanted him to grumble, wanted something to kick against, and normally he would have remained silent, to avoid giving them the satisfaction. Tonight, under the morbid gaze of his friend's skeleton, he sighed and said,
'Then why did you tell me to ask?'
The eye sockets were expressionless, but at least they hadn't lost their infuriating grin. In fact, they didn't have many alternatives.
'Because I wanted to tell you that I didn't know.'
'Are you asking for help?'
They folded what was left of their arms over their ribs. The sleeves of their robe fell across the exposed ulna.
'No.'
'I'll go, then.'
'You barged into my tent in the middle of the night and now you're not even going to offer me a cup of tea?'
Morris looked at their jawbone, their spine, the empty space where a throat should have been.
'Would you be able to drink it?' he asked.
'No. I tried with a glass of wine earlier.' They gestured to the red stain on the bundle of clothes currently employed as a cushion. 'It didn't work. Just make the tea, yeah? I can still hear and see things, so maybe I'll be able to smell it. That makes as much sense as anything else. I hate magic.'
As this was a sentiment Morris, tenth level druid, wholeheartedly agreed with, he settled back down and took the cup Skullduggan offered him. He dropped some leaves from his pockets into the cup, drew forth a flame from his palm and settled the cup on it. When it became too hot to hold he let the flame quench itself and folded his hands around the top.
He didn't ask whether Skullduggan could indeed smell the bitter herbs rising on the steam, and they didn't offer any enlightenment. Morris breathed in the scent himself and guessed, quite correctly, that Skullduggan would wait until he was halfway through his first sip before speaking again.
'Morris?'
He lowered the cup untasted.
'Mm?'
'When you change into different animals, how do you cope with everything feeling… wrong?'
The cup was scalding against his skin. Morris didn't notice. He felt suddenly numb.
'Wrong?'
'You know. Legs in the wrong places and having scales and being too big or too small or whatever.'
Morris did know. He knew all too well. Even sat here, in the comfort of Skullduggan's improbably large tent, he could feel the nagging discomfort in the back of his mind, whispering that something was out of place. It felt like wearing mismatching boots or wet socks, but inside himself, constantly, until it made his mind ache. On bad days it made him want to dig his own skin away with his fingernails.
He couldn't even begin explaining that sensation to Skullduggan, but looking up, he realised he didn't have to.
'It always feels wrong,' he said simply. Skullduggan drummed their fingers on their jaw, which made a sound like rolling dice.
'Even when you're human?'
'Uh, yeah.'
'Oh.'
'Except ratshape, sometimes.'
'Well, obviously,' said Skullduggan, and then added, with surprising fondness, 'Because you're weird.'
The tea simmered in Morris's hands, cool enough to drink. He took a mouthful, ignoring the intense stare this earned him, and asked,
'What does it feel like to you?'
'Empty. I feel empty. I thought this--' they pulled the bundle of clothes out from beneath themself and shook it '--might help, maybe make it feel like I had a body, but obviously it didn't. So what do you do, if you have to live with it all the time?'
The silence answered the question. After a while, Morris handed his cup to Skullduggan, who took it and held it to their nasal cavity.
'Dandelion and sage,' they said. 'With… lemon?'
'Verbena.'
'Close enough. At least that's something I can still do.' They passed the cup back, and then added, in quieter tones, 'Did you hear me talking to Zazka earlier?'
'Everyone from here to Dwylionn heard it.'
'I really didn't mean to let that wolf bite her. It's not easy holding a sword with these.'
They waggled their finger bones. Morris set the cup on the ground.
'I think it was more because you called Sophie a charlatan.'
'What? She is a charlatan. She turned me into a godsdamned skeleton. What kind of cleric does that? Bloody temple priests. I'm going to put forth a motion to have them all executed, if I can ever get inside the Council Chamber again.'
Violent threats were more in line with Skullduggan's usual behaviour, but Morris heard something else in there. It was in a hiss through their teeth, a turn of their head, something indefinable but slicing through their words with the sharpness of a razor. Morris shuffled back a few inches before clearing his throat.
'Do you want to talk about Sabrinei?'
It was a good thing he had the foresight to move. The cup narrowly avoided hitting his head as Skullduggan hurled it at the tent poles.
'No, I do not want to talk about-- about her. If I wanted to talk about her I would fucking do it. I don't even want to talk about this.' They beat a fist against their ribs, which rattled. 'I… can't at the moment. One thing at a time, yeah? I'll… I'll get to her. Don't ask me again.'
It seemed like a good moment to make his exit, but as Morris clambered towards the flap and the chill night air, Skullduggan said,
'When we get a scroll of resurrection, Morris, I want you to do it.'
Morris did not hesitate in his answer.
'No.'
'I wasn't asking. You don't have a choice. Sophie would probably turn me into a zombie or something, and if we got a temple priest to do it they'd ask lots of stupid personal questions about me and then do it wrong anyway. I'm not living with this feeling forever. I won't. You're the only one who'll understand how to put things back right.'
They might have been a skeleton, and they might have been clutching the pathetic bundle of clothes like a comforter, but they were still the Marquis Skullduggan. They would still have a sword within reach, or, failing that, a cheerful disregard for their own safety. Wrestling a wildshaped druid, as they had demonstrated on many previous occasions, was not something they would baulk at. Morris chewed his lip.
'I'll think about it,' he said. Skullduggan must have been more affected than they were showing, because they nodded.
A family as large as the Skullduggans obviously requires a lot of houses. Different branches of the family tend to congregate around their own plot of land, some sharing one large building, some spread across smaller homes concentrated into one area. Whichever branch of the family currently attends court most often is the branch whose home is considered the "primary residence" of the Skullduggans.
When the current Marquis was growing up, this main Skullduggan household was a manor in the centre of Scrantz's capital. Now that they have taken over the family's political duties, it centres more on their home, a villa situated further out from the city proper. It's an open, airy building, ideal for the heat, with a lot of shaded verandas and courtyards, blooming with jasmine and rose around shallow pools.
Sporadic development in the occasional times of affluence for House Skullduggan has created a somewhat illogical layout, as if the architect was making it up as they went along. It has also resulted in a few hidden passageways. Most Skullduggans are familiar with a few of them; only the Twins and, thanks to the rats, Morris are aware of their full extent.
The grounds beyond the villa and formal gardens consist of vineyards and the usual Scrantz scrubland. A plateau to the south of the villa, where Gideon used to spend a lot of time, gives a view stretching almost to the desert border, while a lookout to the north is a favourite destination for the Twins when out riding (or a finish line when racing).
Rattlebones, also known as Rattles or Ratter, is the Skullduggan family cat, originally brought back from the front line of a battle as a ratter for the villa. From the get-go she was lazy and inefficient, hence why Morris had to be called in instead, but the family grew attached to her.
She is getting on in years now. Calico type, her white fur is getting a bit grubby and she feels frail to the touch, but her claws remain in perfect working order. She can usually be found sunbathing on one of the villa's patios, or curled up near the Twins if they remain still for long enough.
Morris makes a point of chatting to her whenever he visits. Skullduggan has given up trying to understand why someone so weird about his rats gets on so well with a cat -- Morris has tried explaining that she's a dignified old lady, that she picks up on a lot of useful gossip in the animal world, that she's only doing what comes naturally, and that in any case the only rats she's ever eaten are ones the Twins caught for her first, but to no avail.
For someone who spends a lot of time living in a sewer and communicating solely with rats, Morris is surprisingly close to his mother. She lives in Gwynn, a county much further north than Scrantz, and occasionally he will make the journey up to see her, when the rats are settled and capable of taking care of themselves for a while. She also invites him to the odd social function in the belief it will be helpful for him. Neither Morris nor the other guests tend to enjoy these occasions. Nevertheless, he appreciates the effort, even if she can be overbearing at times, and makes it clear that he loves her, even if he has made some unusual life choices.
He neither knows nor cares who his father is. His mother has told him that he was a sailor, of the sort who was betrothed to a girl in every port and married none of them. That told Morris all he needed to know, and he grew up quite happy in their small family unit of two.
Many things in Anken answer to the rhythm of the seasons, whatever the temples say. A Skullduggan's life, from birth to adulthood, is no different, and in their case resonates with the cycle of their vineyards.
When a Skullduggan is born, whichever older Skullduggans end up in charge of them plant a selection of their own vines with the baby present. As the child grows up, they get to snack on the grapes produced and the adults will make test batches of the wine. The children are increasingly allowed to help with this and, when deemed mature enough, permitted a tiny sample with a meal (this is less because Skullduggans are responsible guardians and more because they don't want to waste good wine on someone who won't appreciate it).
The grapes will be bred and mixed according to the child's preferences. The older they get, the more control the child is allowed over which grapes get bred together and what they are aiming for. In a tradition which has echoes of the Old Kingdom, the wine they eventually produce will be a representation of that Skullduggan's soul, their being, who they are, and so the idea is to let the child guide how the grapes are grown as much as possible. Even so, when a child, as children are wont to do, spontaneously decides that they HATE GRAPES!!! today and want everything to taste as much like cheese as possible, the adults usually decide that this is now an important learning experience and that showing them how to pick the "best" combination of grapes is actually an important part of the child's education.
When the child hits their teenage years, which they can accurately estimate even with their atrocious recordkeeping -- there is no mistaking the absolute terror that is a Skullduggan entering puberty -- they choose their favoured breed and plant their final choice of grapevine. It takes approximately three years from planting new grapes for them to be ready to harvest for wine. When that specific vine is ready, the Skullduggan takes the lead in the first harvest, the crushing, and fermentation.
Due to the climate of Scrantz, only Skullduggans living in the north of the county (or outside Scrantz entirely) tend to opt for white wines, as they have access to cooler cellars. The Marquis's family live in the very south, on the border of the desert, and nearly all opt for red wines. The exception was Cherry, whose signature wine is a rosé -- Robin used the same grapes as her twin, but didn't have the patience to watch over them and decide when to press them.
Once fermented and pressed, the wine will be transferred to barrels for ageing, which can take up to two years. The Skullduggan will spend this time training with the family militia on the hotly contested southern border. A not-insignficant number of Skullduggans, including the Marquis's younger siblings, do not make it back from this engagement. Their wine will be bottled, but never consumed, usually buried with them (or what remains of them) in the family crypt.
When the wine is ready to be bottled and drunk, which can take up to two years, the Skullduggan is considered an adult, an occasion celebrated with a gathering of the whole family. This coincides nicely with "about eighteen years old". This may be slightly longer, if vines need to be replanted, or slightly shorter, if the wine doesn't take as long to settle. The former is considered a very bad omen. The latter is less ominous, but the longer the Skullduggan's first tour of duty, the higher their respect and standing amongst their family.
They may continue refining their signature wine for the duration of their life, but at least one of their first bottles will be kept for their funeral. Skullduggans who prefer the career of a vintner to that of a soldier will also continue using other breeds of grape (or other fruits) to produce wines with less personal significance for sale and export. Only wine produced using grapes of their original vine and its descendants will be considered their signature wine. As a rich noble family, they also hire vignerons to do a lot of the work on a commercial scale, but again, it is only considered a signature wine if the Skullduggan does the work themself. Bottles of signature wine are literally signed, by hand, on the label to identify them for this reason, and are usually kept exclusively for the family or bribery purposes in court.
The Marquis has a memory of helping the Twins plant their vines, but when they think about it properly, the ages don't add up. They remember themself as only about fourteen or fifteen -- the Twins, therefore, would barely have been toddlers. After a while they realise they must be remembering their younger siblings, all of whom were killed in action before they were able to bottle their wines.
A person can be sure they have Morris's trust when he agrees to tell them the story of the voyage which sparked his reluctant career as an adventurer. There are plenty of reasons he keeps it to himself, not least the fact that it doesn't paint him in the best light, and dredging up those old fears requires him to place a lot of faith in his audience not to ridicule or doubt him.
When he finally tells Skullduggan about it, after an immense amount of pestering over the course of several months, he expects them to lose what little respect they might have had for him. In fact Skullduggan listens with the avidity of a schoolchild. It's a story involving fighting, shipwrecks, and a lich. What's not to enjoy? They don't even find Morris's part in it shameful. He may not have approached the situation like a Skullduggan would -- viz. with sword drawn and a flagrant disregard for his own life -- but he did his part, and he survived. They didn't realise their pet druid was capable of being interesting.
Morris hates dealing with feyfolk, even more than he hates dealing with humanfolk. It is unfortunate, then, that the fey delight in playing with druids and their ilk. Anyone who meddles in their realm is fair game for them and druids, with their close connection to nature, are prime targets.
There is an unofficial, unspoken, but widely known code which druids are expected to follow in Morris's homeland, known as The Way. Among other things, it requires its followers to pay their respects to local fey upon arriving in a new realm, primarily in the hope of dissuading them from any mischief. Morris avoids doing this whenever possible. In his experience, the more one interacts with the fey, even if only to be polite, the more trouble gets caused, and so he is paranoid to a fault about any interactions.
Of course the fey usually notice this rudeness and take personal offence. Sometimes the Firefly Queen will show her possessive side and protect her pet rat from her rivals, more to flaunt her own power than because she cares about him; sometimes she finds it more entertaining to see how he fares on his own, feeling that, having got himself into the scrape through his own ill manners, it is only right that he extricate himself as well. Since he will not give her his full name and place himself fully under her influence, she has no cause to stick her neck out protecting him beyond jealousy at the thought that someone else might trap him before she does.
During the events of BG3, Morris is equal parts concerned and relieved to realise that the tadpole seems to prevent the Firefly Queen from finding him.
Listing every member of the current rat colony Morris travels with would be a sisyphean task due to the constant births, deaths, and individuals departing to join other colonies. A few members are detailed here, and other key rats he has encountered are as follows, from oldest acquaintances to newest.
Fruitcrumb
The first rat Morris spoke to. A small, anxious young buck whose colony was destroyed by the ratcatchers, mostly through the use of poison. He escaped and found the Druid Circle, where he remained to recover from his experience.
Butter
The alpha rat when Morris was trying out his "embark upon a ship to escape scrutiny" idea. Boasted a talent for escaping a tight spot unscathed. Butter was far more wary of Morris than Fishstinky, and the colony under his guidance was much more distant, which caused more than one frustrating incident for Morris. They parted ways after the final fateful voyage, when Butter elected to remain behind on the island they were deserted on.
Pawdamp
A dam who chose to leave the island with Morris and provided the basis of the new colony he now travels with. One of her pups, Fishstinky, was born aboard the ship they escaped the island on.
Fishstinky
The current alpha rat. Medium-sized, rather scrappy and scabby around the edges. In terms of personality Fishstinky is, as one might expect, rather bossy, a necessity to maintain his position, but unlike Butter he has total trust in Morris and considers him an equal. He's also more open-minded to Morris's requests.
Grapewood
A doe adopted into the colony after Morris rescued her from the Skullduggan family cat. Not only did that become a diplomatic incident in miniature as Morris attempted to reason with both cat and rat, to the intense amusement of the Skullduggan Twins watching through a keyhole, but Grapewood is descended from the rats who escaped Morris's poison a decade ago, creating a complex, conflicted relationship with her saviour. At least explaining the intricacies of the situation bored the Skullduggans enough for them to lose interest in feeding Grapewood to the cat.
Cherry first meets their wife when she is acting as a soldier in their regiment, several years in the future from current events. After a typical evening of downtime between offensives on the front line -- which those familiar with the Skullduggans and their followers are free to imagine -- they both wind up in Cherry's tent for the night. The soldier wakes up in the early hours of the morning and shifts as if to leave, only for Cherry to reach out, grumbling sleepily, and hold her closer. This proves not to be a one-off occurrence, and by the time the tour concludes Cherry assumes she will come home with them to meet the Skullduggans. She isn't about to argue. A feisty woman, proud of her military record, ready to give as good as she gets, and loyal to Scrantz and its unorthodox ruling family, she is confident she can handle a Skullduggan long-term.
In due course, she is brought to the main Skullduggan villa and introduced to the family, particularly the Marquis and Robin. She meets with universal approval. There is no moral grandstanding on her part, no suggestion that she expects Cherry to be anything other than they are, merely that she loves them and can keep pace with their riotous family. That family in turn finds her amiable and up for a bit of mischief when required, which is all they ask.
'They really like this one, Cuz.'
'They do?'
'I can tell. They ruffle their hair before they talk to her, see? They think it makes them look more attractive.'
Robin only starts to feel trepidation upon the announcement of their engagement. She is outwardly overjoyed for her twin but internally divided: although wholly in favour of leading independent lives and Cherry carrying on the Skullduggan line, it feels strange to her that she will officially no longer be the closest person in Cherry's life. The only hint she ever gives of this is the sadness in her voice when she comments to the Marquis, primarily in tones of disgust, now I'll have to hang around with YOU.
(This is accompanied by a pout and mild offence taken by the Marquis.)
At first she is able to cope with the relentless Skullduggan skulduggery, but it quickly begins to wear when Cherry continues... being a Skullduggan, all the time, without rest, even after the birth of their first child. Despite the fiery arguments, Cherry doesn't see any problems at this point -- they think it is a normal way for a marriage to be, because the few Skullduggan marriages they have known mostly consisted of people shouting at each other behind locked doors.
She gives them a second chance, and a third, asking them -- she thinks quite fairly -- not to get killed before their second child is born. When she finds Cherry cradling the child for the first time with a bloodied face and a black eye, having celebrated in the usual Skullduggan fashion of causing mass civil unrest, she decides enough is enough.
I asked you just to stay alive until our baby was born and you nearly got killed over the terminology used in a by-law concerning your sister's fucking weaponised wasps for FUCK'S SAKE CHERRY--
Cherry is heartbroken. Robin is furious and somehow equally miserable. The Marquis is rather bored of it all and points out that at least she had the decency not to murder Cherry by shooting them in the throat with a crossbow. The Marquis is not invited to further consolation sessions.
The children remain with House Skullduggan, where they are raised, as is normal in the family, by anybody who happens to be around. Both Cherry and their mother are killed in action before they are old enough to understand the situation, and they grow up considering Auntie Robin and Cuz as their parental figures.
Do you ever wonder why the Skullduggans are all the same, born and bred, and you never hear about the people who marry into this family of violent louts?
Nor do they.
How do Skullduggans go about making more Skullduggans when they seem to think that "romance" is a type of pasta sauce?
There are certainly a lot of unsavoury tales in the family's history. The truth of the matter is that, generally speaking, Skullduggan succession is normally secured either through distant cousins, like most nobility, or out-of-wedlock liasons. The oldest profession is legal in Anken, as it happens. It's considered unseemly and inappropriate to be noticed with an individual of the night, but not grounds for being shunned by the court.
Actual, less business-like relationships with those outside the family are not unheard of -- Skullduggans are still human -- but they rarely formalise it with a marriage, leaving both sides free to move on when reality outweighs the romance. People who do marry in sometimes stay the course if they embrace the Skullduggan lifestyle, take on the name and become naturalised, but more often than not the marriage falls apart when they realise that no, actually, the Skullduggan isn't going to grow out of it and they can't Fix Them. The most heartless Skullduggans claim that the reason newlyweds are given their own property on the estate isn't for their privacy -- it's so the rest of the family isn't kept awake by their fights.
The situation usually reaches its breaking point when children come into the picture. The partner expects the Skullduggan to take a bit of responsibility and use their political power to change the world for better, so their child doesn't have to grow up thinking death is the only way to find peace, or at least to be around for their child and not take any excuse to run off to war. When they not only continue to do so but also expect their spouse to accept all the unusual ways Skullduggans treat their children (remaining unclear about parentage, communal raising, rarely using their proper name, &c&c -- everything designed to minimise their individuality beyond being a Skullduggan, so that it hurts less when they get killed in battle), things get heated (very few Skullduggans would bother marrying a quiet, patient, passive individual). The final straw is the Skullduggan informing the spouse that when they leave, the child will remain with the Skullduggans. There is no prospect of discussion on that front. When the spouse tries to have that discussion anyway they tend to be ejected from the family before they can get any ideas about smuggling the child away.
(Some have managed in the past. This gave rise to a common belief around the kingdom that all Skullduggans have a bit of devil's blood in them, and it will out; anyone born of the family is said to share the same wild, reckless nature, even if they aren't aware of their heritage.)
To be fair to the Skullduggans, as callous as their attitude is, they are very up front with their potential partners that it is how things will go. It takes a very naïve, blinkered, or self-deluding sort of person to marry them anyway.
Skullduggan will share a tent with Morris if necessary, moreso than any other non-Skullduggan they travel with, but they don't generally enjoy it. He smells weird, and they do not appreciate sharing with the rats. As soon as a rat shows up they are 100% awake and out of there.
"You let me sit on your shoulder."
"Yeah, but that's different, I know it's you."
"It wasn't last time. That was Fishstinky."
"I'll have those clothes burned, then."
(This was probably Morris having a bit of fun in his own quiet, straightfaced way. The rats have an equally low opinion of Skullduggan.)
