The servant's screeching was irritating. Already, Basile's patience was limited. There was obviously another problem and he huffed his annoyance. Wildlife was not uncommon, being that generally few hunted the territory. She was overreacting in that womanly way, no different than his mother when she found a snake in her garden. He looked at the woman blandly before walking past her, partly curious what sort of critter she had come across that she found so distressing. He'd grabbed his brother's dagger on the way out, though perhaps should have better prepared himself.<br/><br/>She chittered out after him, telling him where she'd seen it, trying to describe it. All exaggeration, she was sure. The servant urged him not to go alone. Not for care for his well being, of course. Just the uncertainty of what would happen should the last remaining lord cease living. Surely not even the curse could stand against being swallowed whole by some devilish serpent?<br/><br/>Basile ignored her concern, instead moved to investigate the second intruder he'd received on his property that day. The words of the hunter had set in the back of his mind but he'd been truthful. He hadn't heard anything and with the way he kept an eye on things, found it difficult to believe some hulking monster had gotten past him. Southwest of the fountain, she'd said.<br/><br/>Bright swaths of color stood out in great contrast against the too tall grass. It stopped him in his tracks, a winding, muscular serpentine body laying still. There were many types of creatures of legend. Basile was aware of some of the stories but he hadn't seen anything like it before in all the years that he'd lived. Native oddities, yes. Its color should have stood as a warning to him. The harmless snakes were dull; would blend in to hide. Only creatures formidable enough could get away with such bold markings; it's beauty a warning. And still, Basile moved closer, mesmerized. Immortality had messed up his ideas about self-preservation. What might kill him? His brother had played that game until he found out what worked. Basile had been too cowardly to be so direct about it but toying with danger seemed acceptable.<br/><br/>Basile found that the thick body melted into something more human, though still unsettlingly<i>not</i>. It wasn't moving, resting perhaps. Basile knelt, running his hands over those colorful scales, taking in more details, staying away from the business end should it wake. If it was the devil himself as the woman claimed, Basile doubted he'd have been unable to help himself. The hunter must have been the same way, only instead of sneaking up on it, he'd rained arrows down upon it.<br/><br/>“You are what the hunter was talking about,” Basile decided, wondering why something so magnificent might have any reason to run. He looked closer at the wounds, evidence of its mortality, festered to the point of infection. He reached for the nearest arrowhead, broken off but obviously deeply embedded. The dagger had been pressed flat onto the ground, between his hand as he balanced, kneeling beside the enrapturing leviathan. Basile wrapped an arm around it, surprised at the weight as he tried to shift it. Heavier than he expected and he doubted he could bolster any of the servants into helping him move it.