[Abandoned] A Fool's Errand

Tue Jul 12, 2022 10:03 pm

A Fool's Errand

The world event begins _{(take two)}!

World Event Rules & Instructions

The world event has now begun! All participating player characters must abide by the rules below. Some of the rules may be subject to change as we progress through the event.

Boss Fights
Players interested in boss fights will be offered various options for combat at suitable times during the World Event. You may have the following options when the time comes:

Face off against Impies (may require team-ups)
Face off against other players
Face off against normal bosses as assigned by the NPC posts

Your difficulty scores for the first two options will be determined based on the gap in levels/tiers and the number of characters on each side.

If you choose not to have a boss fight, you will be assigned a difficulty score of -4 as usual.

Timeline
Each NPC post will provide a "stop-time" in an OOC spoiler. All of your character's RP actions must take place before the stop-time. If your actions persist beyond the stop-time, it may generate inconsistencies in the event's plot.

Word Count Requirement
While your individual posts can be as long as you want, your total IC word count by the end of the world event must be above 10,000 for at least one of your participating characters. Length bonuses will also apply as per the Questing Guide.

First Round
The first round of posts will be free - as in, anyone can submit their first post without worrying about whose turn it is. However, I highly recommended you discuss how you plan to enter the event with other participants you are interested in forming a group with (see the RP group section below). The NPC post will provide context for each faction's settings.

RP Groups
Once the first round of posts is complete, each player can form their own RP group in the thread. Each group only has to wait for their group mates to finish posting before repeating the post order. The NPC will throttle any groups which go too fast in comparison to others. The stop-time will also help in this regard.

You are welcome to freely switch between groups or merge with other groups, so long as both parties are informed appropriately.

When you form or change a group, please also include an OOC spoiler note in your post to keep everyone informed.

If you are not part of any groups, you may post only once a week.

Time Limit
Each participating character will be required to post at least once a week. If you have multiple characters in the event, you must pick one primary character with whom you must post once a week.

If you miss a post three times, you will start losing 20% of the total rewards for each post you miss (including the three posts you already missed).

God-modding
Typically, god-modding another player's character is not allowed without the concerning player's permission. However, if you miss a post and your character is vital to a scene, your character's actions may be god-modded by the NPC (or by a player designated by me).

Read Every Post!
It is imperative that participants read every post in this event. I realize this may be more than what some of you may have bargained for, but, please remember that there will be a vote at the end of the event that will decide who should get the top three prizes. Additionally, it will help you keep track of the overarching story and keep you aware of any characters outside your RP group trying to interact with yours.

The event will continue to evolve at varying paces, so, please try to be patient and yet vigilant. But, above all, enjoy yourselves! You will rarely get the opportunity to interact with such a diverse cast of player characters and Impies in a single thread.

Be open to adjustments
It may be necessary for me to request adjustments in your posts at times if they create inconsistencies or contradict the event's plot. Please be open to making said adjustments.

Questions?
Needless to say, if you have questions at any point, please feel free to ask in the [discord]help-desk[/discord] channel.

Tue Jul 12, 2022 10:06 pm

References:

Setting

The Jolly Keys—an unassuming set of tropical isles in the South Blue—are a nest of vipers, a den of thieves, and home to the wicked. Two larger islands form the eyes while a chain of smaller islets shapes the archipelago's eponymous smile.

The presence of officials and authority figures is as welcome on the Jolly Keys as cold sores on a hot date. But, even in this moshpit of crooks, many innocent civilians live out their dull lives.

Many fishing villages and camps dot the Jollies—a popular nickname for the archipelago. But, the majority of the population can be found in its three cities.

Port Teardrop is the largest of the three and perhaps the least crime-infested. It sits snugly between a lone mountain and the south-eastern coast of Dexter Eyeland. Out of the three jolly cities, Port Teardrop has the highest tolerance for outsiders and benefits from all manner of free trade. The Mourning River runs down the mountain and through the city, dividing it into two nearly equal halves. Many wide stone bridges built over it support hundreds of buildings, practically making it an underground river.

La Crima, a town on the western edge of Dexter Eyeland, is more infected by crime and illicit businesses. Assassins, organ traders, human traffickers, and smugglers of all sorts congregate in this place. Tourists in La Crima are bound to have their wallets snatched or their panties stolen.

Lastly, the city of Carbuncle sits by the Bay of Spectacles on Sinister Eyeland. Jagged reefs and shoals—affectionately called "The Lashes"—protect the bay like a guard dog's fangs. Ships entering the bay will surely find their watery graves unless they are familiar with the tide schedules and the surrounding currents. The entire length of Sinister Eyeland's coast consists of high cliffs and various dangerous rock formations. This serves as a solid natural defence for those with vested interests in Sinister Eyeland.

A patch of mountains—unsurprisingly referred to as the Patch Mountains—lay on Sinister Eyeland. An active volcano lies in the centre of this patch. Several factories operate in these mountains and in Carbuncle, mining minerals and producing substances unfit for model citizens. The owners of these factories fiercely protect their assets and rule the Jolly Keys from the shadows.

For an archipelago so averse to authority, it somehow does not fail to fall victim to strong leadership. Carbuncle is a city closed off to all outsiders, for it is home to notorious criminals who hold the Jollies under their thumbs.

April 1, 1829, ~6:00 A.M.

Somewhere in La Crima...

[npc=revo]"Why are you even here, Mancie?! Didn't the boss-man order you to keep an eye on things at Briss?"[/npc] Barked a five-feet-short baldy.

His much taller associate, an electric eel fish-man, pouted as best as his unsettling underbite would allow. His skin was yellow as if jaundiced. [npc=revo]"Ahd do dat, bud, ya noe hoe uzezz ya are, Godli-zan."[/npc] He replied as if stating a fact. His answer did not detain him from spiking the ends of his ragged blond hair. His skinhead companion's shiny scalp served as a suitable mirror.

The vertically-and-follically-challenged grump folded his arms and howled. [npc=revo]"Shut your ugly mouth, ya dumb fish-out-of-water! You're the only one who thinks I'm useless. And it's not like we came here alone! If only that damn hurricane hadn't sunk our ship!"[/npc] The passers-by paid them no heed. Angry exchanges were a common sight in the streets of La Crima as sure as water is wet.

Mancie scratched his round chin and pondered over the excuse. After a moment's thought, he shrugged. [npc=revo]"Da hurrycan wooden be zo durrybull if ya hoomuns noo hoe duh zwim."[/npc]

[npc=revo]"We know how to swim, you idjit. Hurricanes are bad news for everyone."[/npc] Gotli rolled his eyes and turned away.

[npc=revo]"Anyway, since you're here, you might as well help me find at least part of our unit. I'm not going to meet a bunch of pirates with only an imbecile watching my back."[/npc] The pair walked down the muddy thoroughfare, dodging beggars and stray dogs, in search of their fellow revolutionaries.

One of the many docks at Port Teardrop...

The morning sun peeked through the black clouds lingering after the hurricane. A few rays broke through and lit up the features of a raven-haired man in a wedding-white suit. He tightened his violet tie, cleared his throat, and spoke into a transponder snail clearly.

[npc=cpol]"To all my cousins of the Gull family - you are cordially re-invited to the wedding reception of Seamus and Bradley. Sadly, the wedding hall was damaged during the hurricane, so, the ceremony will be held at Dock Warehouse No. 28. Be sure to bring your original invitations. The event will start at 8:00 A.M. sharp. That is all."[/npc]

Somewhere in a dark corner of the city, a young man with dark blue hair and matching eyes listened lazily to this message alongside a company of armed ruffians. [npc=navy]"Is the whole cloak-and-dagger thing really necessary, Rear Admiral? That Lord Foul seems overly cautious. I bet these halfwits wouldn't hear us coming even if we announced our arrival with war drums,"[/npc] said one of the ruffians as he flexed a bow adorned with two yellowing horns.

The Rear Admiral shrugged. His dark eyeliner seemed to bring out the blue in his cynical eyes. [npc=navy]"If it were up to me, we would march in there, proudly wearing our uniforms, and lay down the law. But, that's the thing about joint operations. We have no choice but to play to Cipher Pol's tune."[/npc]

[npc=navy]"Are you two trying to blow your cover?"[/npc] Questioned a slender woman with frizzy red hair as she entered the alley. The other men cleared her a path to the Rear Admiral. [npc=navy]"These disguises are pointless if you're not gonna make an effort to hide who we are,"[/npc] she added with a tired sigh.

[npc=navy]"You're in no position to judge when you somehow manage to get lost every ten minutes, Captain Wyre."[/npc] the bowman argued with an impertinent sneer.

The captain flicked the insolent sailor's forehead. [npc=navy]"I wasn't 'lost'. I was scouting. Maybe you should try it sometime, Lieutenant Commander Virtanen."[/npc]

The Rear Admiral snorted. [npc=navy]"We'll all be scouting in a minute."[/npc]

He climbed up on the moss-ridden box which had served as his seat for the past hour, adjusted the two katanas strapped to his left hip, and barked at his company brimming with confidence.

[npc=navy]"Spread out and deliver the message to any stragglers. We'll regroup at Dock Warehouse No. 28 at 8:00 A.M. And don't be late. I'd rather not give Lord Foul an excuse to question our competence."[/npc]

A bridge over the Mourning River...

A ginger-haired boy dangled off a high ledge with a shiny spyglass strapped over one of his bulbous green eyes. He fiddled with a scroll on his brass scope and trained his inquisitive gaze towards a lonely shore some ways away from Port Teardrop. His jaw dropped as he spotted a massive shadow in the fog descending from the clouds.

He removed and pocketed his spyglass in a hurry and swung off the ledge to grab a clothesline. He spun around the line twice with the skill of a trapeze artist before dropping two storeys down into a puddle on the stone road. The splash from his landing earned him a "Hey!" and a "Watch it!" from a few pedestrians. He darted down the street with not a single apology for his monkey business.

[npc=misc]"Granny! Granny!"[/npc] The ginger boy shouted as he rushed towards a lady who seemed shorter than a thumb and older than time itself. The crumpled old woman stood with a man under a shed. A sign reading "Bell's Gears and Grease" hung from the awning above. Several pallets with neatly stacked and polished mechanical parts were placed on a wooden platform nearby.

The lady ignored the boy's calls. One would be right in assuming she was simply hard of hearing. She was attempting a transaction with a customer. The exchange was no doubt two parts repeated questions from the customer and one part "Eh? Say again?" from the half-deaf crone.

The boy scowled and slowed. [npc=misc]"Granny! How many times do I have to tell you to use the listen-gooder?"[/npc]

As he got closer, the grandmother finally noticed his presence. She scrunched her nose and narrowed her eyes as if to see past her thick glasses. [npc=misc]"Eh? I cannae hear ye. I lost the doohickey,"[/npc] she yelled before turning back to the customer. The man tapped his foot impatiently with his arms folded. [npc=misc]"He's such a fine lad, ye see? He made me a li'l doohickey that aids me hearin',"[/npc] she boasted.

[npc=misc]"It's not a doohickey, granny! It's a listen-gooder. And you didn't lose it,"[/npc] the boy whined. He stood by her side and reached into a pocket in her long, chequered skirt. He fished out a tiny metal trumpet with a frown. [npc=misc]"I told you that I put it in your pocket."[/npc] The customer cocked a brow.

Granny cooed when the boy handed her the trumpet. She hooked the device over an ear and spoke quieter, [npc=misc]"Ooooooh. Lookit that! 'Twas in me skirt all 'long. Now, what was it ye was sayin', me boy?"[/npc]

The boy's eyes sparkled once again as he pointed in the general direction of the lonely shore he was surveying. [npc=misc]"I saw a ship flying down from the sky, Granny! It was amazing!!"[/npc]

The customer let slip an untamed cackle. [npc=misc]"AHAHAHAHA!!! A flying ship, you say?! Do you think it came down from the moon? Do you think it's full of people made of nothing but metal too? HAH! How ridiculous."[/npc] The child's shoulders folded inwards and he stared at the ground red-faced.

The grandmother howled.

[npc=misc]"Away with ye, ya hooligan! Away!"[/npc] She yelled and waved a heavy wrench at the skeptic. The customer wasted no time in taking his leave of the crazy pair.

The grandmother turned to her grandson with a confident smile and screwed in her listen-gooder tighter into her ear. The words that followed cheered up the humiliated boy once again.

[npc=misc]"Donnae ye listen to 'im, li'l Winny. He doesnae know nothin'. There's many-a-things in the world that ye wouldnae believe. Men that live in the sea. Ships that crawl on the land. Machines older than even me."[/npc] She placed a wrinkled hand on the boy's messy ginger head.

[npc=misc]"So, if yer tellin' me ya've seen a ship sailin' down from the sky...

...I believe ye."[/npc]

Notes:

Wed Jul 13, 2022 8:03 am

Crime had a characteristic odor. It smelled like filth and gunpowder dancing with cheap booze and freshly spilled blood. The stench swirled in the air as a miasma of misery. It hung especially thick and noxious over the isles that formed the Jolly Keys. Yet some would insist it was the scent of freedom and loved the isles precisely for it. Some were foolish like that.

However, one traveler was rather unhappy about the state of the isles. A small silhouette made its way through the storm-kissed streets of Port Teardrop. Wandering aimlessly along the quiet streets and shady alleys, it seemed to be headed nowhere in particular.

Peering closer revealed a short and slender young lady. An icy glare sat stubbornly on her sharp and pale features. Touches of crimson eyeshadow decorated the corners of her eyes, resembling war paint more than makeup. Her long, dark hair was bound by multiple hair ties into a tidy ponytail, like a paintbrush with a white tip sweeping the air in her wake.

Dressed in a refined, black suit, the woman blended rather poorly into her environment. With that kind of tailcoat, she would’ve looked more natural in a fine party or a penguin enclosure. Polished dress shoes tapped against the cobblestone. White silken gloves clutched a long leather carrying case. The bright red bowtie around her neck might as well have been a chiming bell, with how many curious gazes it gathered in passing.

Yumiko stalked through the urban jungle with tense steps. Every new scent made her sharp nose twitch and every suspicious sound scratched at her ears. She wasn’t lost, no, just... scouting. And clearing her head.

Hazy memories flooded the Marine’s mind like endless fog. Ever since an awful argument, nay, unforgivable mutiny against Rear Admiral La’Croix, she had been crewless, directionless and restless. Being assigned here, to assist her fellow Marines, had been a blessing from above.

Unfortunately, the samurai had let lingering regrets sour her mood. She had been awfully cold towards her allies, keeping to herself and hardly saying a word to them during the voyage. How utterly rude. She should apologize to them later and beg for forgiveness on her hands and knees...

However, the journey had not been without misfortune. A massive storm had swallowed the ships. There was terrible beauty in a true hurricane, how it howled and trashed like a gigantic beast. She had tried to fight against the winds with her powers, yet... Before mother nature, she was as powerless as a child with paper fans playing pretend. It had been a sobering experience. Kamaitachi no Yumiko... Tch, her arrogance had been her undoing.

After arrival, the frustrated warrior had quickly donned her disguise and taken it upon herself to scout the area. Sadly, a former Commander, disgracefully demoted, was not important enough to receive a snail. Thus she remained blissfully unaware of the call to rendezvous.

Turning a corner, Yumiko soon found herself staring at a dead-end. Snapping out of her thoughts, she tentatively glanced around. Every building looked the same, gray stone and weathered wood. Was this not the harbor area then? She had tried to find a shortcut and return to the docks, but... This wall hadn’t been there before. Or she hadn’t been here before.

Not all who wandered were lost... But she sure was.

When the lost traveler turned around, several shady characters crept from the shadows to block her path. Looking like the aftermath of a flea market explosion, their colorful outfits were as wild as they were filthy. They reeked of ill intentions.

A bulky, tanned man with a mohawk and a jacket two sizes too big for his belly sauntered closer. “Hey, hey~ What’s the hurry, toots~?” His long tongue lolled out of his mouth, as he leered at the lady.

Yumiko stood her ground, glaring at the stranger. “Greetings.” Her voice chimed like a silver bell, clear and oh so very cold. “Kindness is the mother of all wisdom.” She spoke, testing the waters in hopes that she had found allies.

No such luck, of course not.

The thug’s leer twisted into annoyance. “Huh, the hell are you babblin’ about?” He circled around her like a hungry hound, eyeing her figure... And the case in her grasp. “Whatcha got there? Looks expensive.” His allies drew closer, snickering darkly.

Grip tightening, the warrior remained still. “‘Tis a flute case. It has a flute in it. And nothing more.” She lied clumsily, disliking the taste of deception. If the contents of the case were revealed, it would surely spark further questions.

The huge thug glanced at his buddies and snorted. “Flute, eh? I’ve got a flute you can blow, toots...” He leaned close enough to nearly lick her ear, his breath brushing against her skin “A skin flute! Riiif~rafrafraf!” Throwing his head back, he let out a raspy laugh. His buddies joined in, their chorus echoing far through the alleyways.

---

Words: 828
Total: 828
Group: Hunting Party (tentative)
Approximate time frame: Between 6:00 A.M. and 7:30 A.M.

Wed Jul 13, 2022 9:47 am

Lockjaw (破傷風)

Western Dexter Eyeland, La Crima

Kat's Jazz & Java House
April 1st, 1829 - Approximately 4:30 am - 5:00 am.

Sitting in front of a blank canvas, the blonde-haired revolutionary's brush danced with immense poise using pallets of various primary colors. Aiming to impress his latest partner in crime and the small intimate audience inside the coffee spot, the live art session now had a piece of the West Blue.

Before the man's painting could be rendered complete, however, the crowd snapped him into ego-filled headspace for just a few strokes, praising it as a masterpiece.

"Umm... Wait. I'm not quite done as yet-" Sabian declared nervously before being ushered off the stage and his painting stripped from him by the organizers to be added with the other works.

Sulking in the corner of the coffee bar, Sabian turned to Johanna with a single tear trickling down his eye in hopes of some kind of emotional haven, to nurture his fragile pride.

Truth is, Sabian was too busy trying to show off to the table of three women who were having breakfast near the front of the venue, and time ran out before he could finish his piece.

Instead of the intended portrait dedicated to Johanna, it was now, a few sketched lines decorated in acrylic paint. As the duo sat by the table, a peculiar patron bumped from seating arrangement to seating arrangement, stumbling into different guests accidentally.

The owner tried to shoo away the seeming frugal patron who'd always come in and order the cheapest coffee, only to harass seated customers for some loose change but today it was a little more than just a basic case of harassment.

It was now Sabian's table up to bat, the strange stubby man would bump into the pretty boy, assuming he'd be an easy lick, only to be sent flying into the ground from the sturdiness of the knucklehead's body. For Sabian, the interaction would be similar to that of a mosquito slamming against a translucent surface.

As the baldy crashed onto his rump, his early morning nabs consisted of an array of wallets, purses, heirlooms, and jewelry scattered onto the floor but the oddest item among the assortment was... Well... Women's Undergarments. The laced kind. Certainly, due to the share amount of trinkets within the thief's possession, the cafe wasn't the first stop of the morning.

Turning his attention to the man who'd bumped into him, Sabian noticed he'd dropped his belongings, and as a true gentleman, Sabian sprung into action to help him gather his possessions.

"Let me assist you kindly-" Sabian's face froze rock solid when he saw the frilly lingerie among the man's possessions. Without any control, rivers of tears began to pitter-patter onto the floor similar to that of rainfall during the hurricane season. Intense.

Resting his hand on the man's shoulder, "If a man with your appearance has someone to buy this kind of stuff for... There's hope for us all. Brother." Sabian declared, sniffling a few times before wiping away the snot and tears. Shooting a thumbs up, Sabian shuffled the man's belongings into his backpack.

The thief wasn't sure if to be grateful or insulted but it didn't matter as much when the exit was but inches away. He would've almost gotten away with too if it wasn't for the meddling dino. A loud 'Kyaaaa' echoed throughout the cafe.

"Someone s-s-stole my- Don't make me say it out loud. My panties!" The damsel in distress shouted in dismay and embarrassment. Sabian's default smirk inclined to a frown and his eyes locked square with the panty burglar's own. Even the dullest tool in the box when it comes to social cues could put two and two together.

Before the man could've even explained, Sabian fired off a single kick to the man's jaw sending him flying in a cartoon-like fashion through the cafe's door. The bag of stolen goods spiraled in midair momentarily, before falling into Jojo's lap.

Flicking his hair backward in a princely-like manner, the prissy pretty boy released a sigh of relief.

"I knew it. With looks like his... God would never be that kind to bless a gremlin-like him with a woman with those sizes." Sabian declared proudly, referring to the disparity between lingerie he discovered, the kind of woman that could fit into said lingerie, and the boarish man who possessed them.

Sabian T. McQueen, reporting for the daily vanity parade that was his life. "Aha. I touched him too... I need to change my gloves. God is truly unkind." Sabian stated in disgust, removing his signature white gloves.

@Subarashi @Johanna Freud @Alexi

Word Count: 751

^{Sabian'sTracker}

Wed Jul 13, 2022 1:05 pm

The sight of ships and boats coming into the Jolly Keys wasn't an unusual sight. Well, unless said ship happened to be a marine vessel. But for the most part, the ports were a rather "don't ask, don't tell" sort of situation.

That being said, it was somewhat unusual to see a rather small boat float into the port. It was about the size of a small fishing vessel, which wouldn't be so unusual if it was a local boat. But it was clear that this vessel came from somewhere far off, and while sea worthy wasn't exactly the most well maintained.

As the boat glided into dock, a young woman with silver hair stepped out of the cabin, quickly moving to tie the boat to the pier. As she did so, a rough looking dock worker approached. "Oi there," he said, though his tone showed it more of a greeting than anything else. The young woman looked over, giving a polite smile as she worked. "Hello."

The worker looked over at the boat. "This yours?" The woman gave a nod as she finished tying it up. The worker pulled out a notepad and a pencil. "Name?" The woman glanced at the notepad, "Eloise Lombardi." The worker nodded and wrote it down. "Business here?" The woman paused for a moment, quietly mulling over her answer, "Just...business." Ah, the typical answer. He wrote it down. "How long yer staying?" Another pause, "I'm...not really sure." The worker nodded. "Well now, it's a ten thousand beli fee to dock yer boat here," he said, before he gave a cheeky smile, "though, if ya want, I am open to other forms of payment."

The sound of footsteps drew his attention as another figure stepped out of the boat. A rough looking man dressed in purple, black hair tied into a ponytail, and one eye covered by a patch. Without a word, the man stepped up onto the dock, standing before the dock worker who instinctively took a step back. He noticed the scars, that cold steely gaze that betrayed nothing of what the man was thinking. All these caused the worker to file this man mentally as someone he didn't want to potentially piss off.

"Ten thousand?" He spoke, his voice completely flat. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out some beli and quietly placing it in the worker's hand. The worker in question quickly pocketed the money, swallowing lightly. "Oh, um, thank you. Er, yer name?" "Amadeus Rhodes," The worker quickly scribbled it down. "OK, thanks. Erm, enjoy yer business here." He quickly stepped aside as the two walked past him.

After making some distance Amadeus spoke softly, "Sorry about that. I should have gone out first." Eloise gave him a small smile. "Don't worry. It was nothing." Her smile faded lightly, "Do you really think they're here?" "Only one way to find out."

After everything that happened on Baterilla, the pair of thrm had decided on a new goal. To track down the crew of organ harvesters that had destroyed Amadeus' body during his childhood, a group they had learned had been called the Meat Market. However, they had come to learn the crew had long since disbanded, but it seemed many of their numbers were still active.

And according to information they gathered, one such former member was here in La Crima.

Post Word Count: 563
Total Word Count: 563

Wed Jul 13, 2022 4:39 pm

5:50 AM | Docks of Port Teardrop

The hulking man slid into yet another suit jacket. His good friend and ever so gentlemanly comrade, Jean Beaufort Moreau, insisted on all the marines around dressing up for the “wedding” later this morning. Although Stone was not one to dress up or care too much about what he wore. But if it would help him get into character better, who was he to argue? It’s not like wearing a nice suit would kill him.

Riiiiiiip…

Stone sighed as he threw off his 5th jacket of the morning. In the marine captain’s opinion, he was already dressed to the nines. The Kodiak had acquired a modest collection of dress clothes while the marines were in the Briss Kingdom, and while the tailors had fitted the clothes to the best of their ability. All of the jackets were just a little too tight on the shoulders for the marine’s liking.

In his brief moment of frustration, Stone slammed his fists down on a nearby crate, shattering it into many small pieces. One of the dockhands scowled at the much larger man, prompting Stone to come to his senses and profusely apologize for his outburst.

After giving the laborers some berries for their trouble, The Captain’s next order of business was to make sure all of his men were present and ready to meet up with the other’s at the warehouse. While seated and waiting patiently, the brown bear looked up at Moreau when he was suddenly approached by the gentleman. “What do you mean someone is missing? We practically just got here.”

The Kodiak rested his hands on his chin, thinking about how he could fix the situation before the clock strikes eight. Standing up, the burly captain delivered his orders to the nearby soldiers, careful to not let any information slip out. “Alright guys, The wedding is going to be at Warehouse No. 28. You all know what to do when you arrive there. Myself and Ensign Moreau will meet you there later. We have something that we must attend to first.”

Following his message, Stone left after the other soldiers began walking towards the warehouses. Looking down at Moreau, Stone held out his hand, waiting to fist bump before they went their separate ways. “Let’s split up and search for Yumiko. We should stay within yelling distance of each other as well.”

6:05 AM | Markets of Port Teardrop.

Stone felt just a little out of place. The man towered over almost all of the people in his vicinity, and he felt as if his clothes made him appear more like a mafia member or bouncer than an inconspicuous wedding-goer. Regardless, Stone was having no luck finding his lost subordinate. He was, however, having an easy time sniffing out all of the food being cooked in all of the shops he moved past. It has been a couple of months since Stone was last in the South Blue. And the one thing that he missed the most was the food. Of course the only thing Stone would miss more would be his dignity if he let a soldier stray from the plan before it had even started.

The decision to not stop for food was difficult, but Stone did not have the time, or cash on him after paying the dockhands for his trouble, and he was surely not going to steal from the honest, hard working people of the town. Hungry and slightly worried, Captain Okirama continued his search.

6:55 AM | Streets of Port Teardrop

Fifty minutes had passed and Stone still felt no closer to finding the lost sailor. The amount of friendly faces had decreased and were swiftly replaced by all manner of thugs and miscreants. Luckily, all of them thought better than to challenge the Kodiak, most likely due to his stature. Eventually Stone happened upon an altercation. Turning the corner, Stone witnessed a group of scoundrels harassing someone very well dressed. The captain was not a betting man, But he had a strong hunch that this was the ‘Yumiko’ that Moreau had spoken of.

Clearing his throat, Stone yelled as loud as he could to inform him of his discovery, ”Moreau! I think I’ve found our missing person. Come over here and give me some backup, I think we’ve run into some trouble.”

He hoped that his good friend was still close enough to hear his voice. Moreau wasn’t one to let the crew down in times like this.

Word Count:

RP Group:

Thu Jul 14, 2022 12:53 am

Ebony drummed her fingers against the receptionist’s marbled counter in an exasperated manner. She and Adonis had been there for quite some time as the flustered receptionist looked adamantly for her booking. Times like these were what Ebony detested the most. Terrible service and the needless amount of waiting one had to do as a direct result of someone else’s incompetence. Ebony sighed as she shot the woman an irritated glance. Surely her name had to be there. She had already confirmed it with her editor prior to her arrival.

The receptionist glanced up to meet Ebony’s eyes before quickly reverting her attention to the list. Pages fluttered back and forth whilst Ebony did her best to maintain her sanity. Had this been Baterilla, well, it would have been a different story. The receptionist peeked at Ebony once more before stammering a stream of incoherent words. Ebony, on the other hand, chose to ignore it before she did something she would regret. La Crima had several prominent families she had to watch out for and she was in no hurry to alert them of her presence.

The receptionist, however, managed to regain her composure. She cleared her throat before asking Ebony the question once more. “Two rooms, correct? Under Skarlet V. Doyle?” Ebony nodded slowly while shooting Adonis a slight glance. She wouldn’t wait to see his reaction before reverting her attention back to the woman. It was the name Ebony had kept private for most of her life. Her pseudonym as a writer so to speak. She figured it was the first time Adonis would have heard it as well.

The receptionist, on the other hand, misinterpreted the glance Ebony had given Adonis. In fact, she nodded slowly to herself before reaching towards another list. Quickly giving it a glance, a huge smile would stretch across her face as she spotted the name on the list. “Aha!” The woman exclaimed. She would give Ebony a coy look before glancing at Adonis. “I understand what you meant now.” She immediately rang her bell thus alerting a young man to near them at the counter. “Albert, here, will lead you to you… rooms.” The woman would shoo them away before taking the next client in her line.

Ebony shot the woman a confused look. The shift in the woman’s expressions was obvious but Ebony decided to think nothing else of it. For now, she was simply content that Michael had truly pulled through for her. He had initially been adamant in stopping her from going but, once she reasoned that it was for her book’s inspiration, her editor had finally agreed. Explaining the second room, however, had been a different story. Not that she blamed him considering the fact that Michael did not know about her life as a mafioso.

Ebony watched as the bell hopper skillfully took their luggage and placed them in the bird-shaped cart he had brought. He was careful in stacking them neatly together before making his way to the receptionist in order to grab the keys. Once done, he would turn to face the pair with a small professional bow. “Please follow me,” The bright-faced young man said as he took a hold of the cart. “I will be directing you both to your rooms now.” Ebony nodded in satisfaction. Things were now going in the direction she wished and she was all the more for it.

The bell hopper would weave them through the building and, from what she could see, it was definitely at the high end of things. It surprised her considering that the company she was currently contracted with was quite small. However, she would not complain considering they were pulling out all of the stops for her. Ebony nodded to herself. If they were going to treat her this way every time she went out looking for inspiration, she would make sure to let them know. After all, who could deny such a service?

It did not take them long before the young man stopped in front of a suite. It was located further from the main entrance but it looked luxurious on the outside nonetheless. Ebony, however, did not mind. As long as the second room was close by, Ebony could deem the place perfect. She would watch as the man clumsily placed the key in and slowly turned the knob. However, he seemed to hesitate before opening the door fully. As if stalling, the young man turned to face them while keeping his eyes low. He mumbled a few words before loudly clearing his throat. He blushed as he finally opened the door to reveal the room that had been booked.

Ebony stopped short as the door swung open to reveal a rather nasty surprise. The room was decorated with a large heart shaped bed which was draped with what she could only describe as a reddish sheer canopy that hung elegantly from the ceiling. To make matters worse, the bed had been covered in rose petals with bottles of champagne sitting to the side. Furthermore, the lighting had been dimmed just far enough so that it would give the illusion of having been lit by candlelight. Ebony’s eyes twitched. It was truly what one could consider a lover’s suite.

The bell hopper swiftly laid all of their luggage on the floor before nodding rapidly in their direction. His cheeks would be tinted bright red as he immediately stammered his adieu. Before Ebony could utter a single word, however, the bell hopper made himself scarce. Practically fleeing from the room, he quickly dismissed himself as he placed the key on the table near the door before slamming the door shut. Ebony stood there frozen as her mouth hung open in shock. No words would come out as her brain whirled in an attempt to comprehend what had just happened.

Slowly regaining her senses, she would turn to face Adonis. However, she was still in a state where she was unable to say anything. Thus, she turned to face the bed. There, a single note laid there waiting to be opened. With no other choice left, she made her way towards the bed and grabbed it. She’d tear it open, read its contents, before crumpling it angrily in her fist. Rage and bloodthirst would cloud Ebony’s judgment as she practically flew from the room. She’d slam the door shut as she left. Someone was going to pay. Even if it meant that they had to do so with their lives.

1.090 | 1.090 | 10.000

Sat Jul 16, 2022 10:25 am

6:00 am. Somewhere high in the sky. Not far from the coast of Dexter Eyeland.

While the rest of Emilia's crew slept, Bill Holiday prowled. Careful not to make too much noise, he crept like a burglar down a dark corridor deep inside the fantastical flying ship. His only source of light was a small flashlight in his hands. He stuck close to the walls and tried his best to follow the various mechanical whirring, hisses and thumps that resonated throughout the hallway.

Moments later, when those sounds neared their crescendo, Bill stopped in front of a large metal door. He lifted his flashlight in front of his face and squinted as he read the label that had been engraved into it. ENGINE ROOM.

“There it is,” he sighed with relief.

The young gun opened the door slowly but relaxed as soon as he stepped into the engine room and shut it behind him. The roar of the engine was deafening. There was no need to creep around anymore, he thought. It was so loud he could fire a gun and nobody would hear it.

Bill shinned his light around at all the moving and shaking gears and gizmos. Seeing Emilia's innards like that was honestly awe-inspiring. Sure he had seen her blueprints but to see it all in action was something else. For a second Bill just stood there, taking it all in.

Volo really was a mad genius. Crying shame he was a pirate.

Bill shrugged off the thought as he reached beneath his cloak and drew a ka-bar style knife from its holster on his back. With the knife in his right hand and his flashlight in his left, he looked at each part closely. After only a moment or two, he found what he was looking for.

A large cylindrical looking object with multiple hoses hooked up to it. Without a second of hesitation Bill stabbed his knife at the object...clink...only for it to bounce off harmlessly. Clink. Clink. Clink.

“Pain in my ass,” grumbled Bill.

Of course Volo would reinforce the fuel tank. Emilia's captain may have been a reckless idiot most of the time but he seemed to think of everything when it came to her.

Bill's knife turned black with haki and he stabbed at the tank once more. This time it went clean through with a satisfying CRUNCH. With the knife still in the tank, Bill gripped the weapon with both hands and thrust it downwards until it ripped through the bottom. Cloudy brown fuel that smelled like a mixture of kerosene and rotten eggs spewed from the opening as the room suddenly began to shudder more violently and the sounds the engine produced became more erratic in frequency and sound.

Bill did an abrupt about-face towards the exit but stopped when he saw something on the ground. Volo's lovable pet, the flying squirrel Susu, had seen everything. The furry ball of fury glared at Bill with fiery hatred in its tiny eyes. It chittered at him with all its tiny might. A grand declaration of vengeance and violence that was completely lost on the gunslinger.

“Aw, did you get lost little guy?” asked Bill with the same tone of voice one might use to ask a toddler about a rock they found in the yard.

Bill quickly put his knife away before gently scooping up the skittish squirrel. Susu returned the gesture by biting down on Bill's hand as hard as he possibly could. If it wasn't for the cowhide gloves the gunslinger wore, the bite might have done some real damage. But as it was, the bite was only slightly painful.

“Careful little guy. That hurts uncle Billy. We have to go now. It's not safe down here,” he cooed at Susu.

With squirrel in hand, Bill quickly ran out of the room and made his way topside. He could not risk being caught down in the belly of the beast when the chaos started. Once he had made it to the main deck, he let Susu go. Susu quickly skittered off. He liked that little critter, he thought. He jus hoped Susu would stay safe when things started going down.

Word count: 701
Group: Karl, Volo (for now)

Sat Jul 16, 2022 12:19 pm

Spoiler:

0600 hours, Crew Cabin, Emilia's Interior

Susu perched himself on the upper rafters of the cabin, resembling a brooding gargoyle as he trained his eyes on Bill Holiday. The rodent felt nothing but hatred for the Cowpoke, spending each and every night since he had been on the blimp watching, waiting. Looking for the perfect opportunity to destroy him.

Patient in his vengeance, he has since become one with the night. The monster that lurks in the dark, waiting around every corner, hiding in every ditch and hole. There would be no escape for the rodent's mortal enemy, for everywhere he goes, Susu would be there. The gunslinger's own personal Boogeyman.

While fantasizing about all the ways to erase Bill's very being from the universe, a subtle movement brought the squirrel back to reality. It was him. The bane of Susu's existence made his move. Creeping like the villain the rodent knew him to be, careful to make sure no one heard what he was up to.

Though unbeknownst to him there was always someone watching. And just like that, the chase was on.

His tiny paws gripped the wood as he moved silently in the darkness. Like a ninja, he flipped and spun his way through the air as he made his way from rafter to rafter that lined the hallway. A hallway that led to a specific place. One that Bill now held his flashlight up to, highlighting the words written on the door.

Engine room.

Susu cocked his head in confusion as he followed Bill inside. Observing as the cowboy inspected the machines for a moment before withdrawing a knife from his belt.

Stalking from above, the squirrel watched as Bill assaulted the tank with the blade, thankfully to no avail. Audibly sighing in relief at the man's stupidity. That was until he heard the sound of the blade crunching through the fuel tank.

Diesel fuel spilled onto the floor as a noxious aroma wafted in the air. Susu chittered in anger as he descended to the floor with an adorable glide pattern.

It was time.

He pumped himself up with air, appearing larger than normal as he prepared to take down his enemy. His vengeance would be swift and brutal. Leaving no trace, no vestige of the man that once was Bill Holiday.

Then, when eye contact was made, Susu let out a blood-thirsty battle cry, declaring that today was Bill Holiday's last day.

But alas, his arch enemy had once again gotten the better of him. Forcing an upsetting, yet honorable retreat on the rodent's part. Though not without inflicting a mortal wound on his opponent, one that would haunt him for the rest of his days should he survive.

Susu chose to live to fight another day, acknowledging he lost the battle but not the war.

The squirrel raced back towards the cabin, diving on top of Volo's face as soon as he arrived. Chittering and chattering aggressively in the young man's face.

"Wha... Ahh, c'mon Susu... It's too early...for thiszzzzz..." Volo responded groggily, shoving the squirrel off his face and rolling over in the hammock that hung from the ceiling.

Once more Susu dove onto his face, this time harder and louder.

"Susu...!" Volo shouted as he tossed him off again.

But again Susu returned, this time claws out. Scratching and biting the pi(lot)rate's face until he woke up.

"Yoooowww!!!" Volo shouted, "Alright, alright! I'm up, I'm up..." Rubbing his eyes as he leaned up to a spazzing rodent on his chest. Pulling at his clothes, chittering and chattering nonstop. "What the hell man....." He yawned, "I'm already up, leave me alone...."

"Ahhhhh...~"Volo yawned again, glancing around the cabin to see Karl asleep in his own bed and Bill's seemingly empty. He rifled through his pockets for a dented carton of cigarettes, plucking one out and placing it on his lips.

"Now then let's see..." Instinctively reaching for his lighter, patting his pockets several times. "Ahhh fuck me.." He groaned, scrunching his face in confusion as he desperately investigated his immediate area.

"Ahhh.... Not again.... Karl! Karl! Oi, Karl!" He shouted, now on all fours scouring every inch of the cabin for his missing lighter. "Hey Kar- Nevermind! Don't worry about it." He snickered, locating a handheld blow torch underneath a table. Testing the starter several times before the blue flame ignited. "There we go, hehe." Inhaling deeply on the tobacco before releasing a cloud of smoke large enough to fill the room.

Volo looked down to see Susu stomping his feet in protest as he desperately tried to explain the situation. Motioning toward Bill's empty space aggressively and then again towards the door.

"What's up Su..? Something about Bill....?" Volo inquired as he played charades with the rodent. To which the rodent happily responded with a nod, now gaining hope for the young captain. Now motioning aggressively to the door and then making the same movements the cowpoke had made to puncture the tank.

"Hmmm.." Volo mumbled as he tussled his hair, the embers on the cigarette devoured the paper as he took a confused drag. "Bill is... fist pumping..?"

Susu shook his head and repeated the motion once more.

"Bill is.... knocking on the door....?" Leaning over to see the door wide open with no need to knock.

Again Susu shook his head and continued to make the stabbing motion.

"Look I don't know what you are doing, is he taking a shit or something..?"

Susu rolled his eyes as he buried his face into his paw, it was useless explaining this to Volo.

"Hey, Karl." Volo said, "See if you can try and figure out wha-....?!" Cut off by the groaning of the engine growing louder and louder. Gears screeched as the engine sputtered to a halt. Causing the entire ship to jerk in the air as the propellers slowed until there was no movement left.

"Well, that's not good..."

Volo rushed to the engine room after the rodent, greeted by the awful smell of dirty diesel fumes. His boots were now wet with the liquid that sloshed about in the room. "What the hell..?!" His eyes darted all over the machinery, coming to a large gash in the fuel tank that the squirrel was all put putting a neon sign on to get the pi(lot)rate's attention.

"How the fuck...." Volo mumbled as Susu desperately tried to paint Bill as the culprit, though he had no success in doing so.

"Bill! Karl!" The captain shouted, "Hope you guys are holding onto something! Wahoooo-ahahaha" Snickering as he filled the machinery with a thick cloud of dark gray smoke. Forcibly moving the parts to descend the ship as quickly as possible.

"One of you guys get your ass on the wheel and direct us towards land!"

0628 hours, Possibly falling to our deaths near Dexter Eyeland

WC 1,136/10,000

Sun Jul 17, 2022 2:14 am

4:30 AM | Seas outside of Jolly Keys

The large sized merchantman that The Hunting Party and their fellow Marines used to smuggle themselves across the Jolly Keys had been meticulously worn to make it seem at place amongst the islands’ ship yards. Quite fortunately the Marines had managed not to compromise the ship’s function; the vestiges of the prior evening’s hurricane winds had made for a difficult night of sailing, requiring the mission's strongest and most experienced sailors to avoid capsizing the vessel beneath the sea's inky waves. Upon waking early Moreau prepared tea for his crewmates, a bitter steep of dark jeeling that he figured would snap even the most poorly-rested sailor awake for the mission ahead.

"Wait, what the hell is this?" One of the higher ups inquired in an exasperated tone upon rousing to the Ensign gentleman's tea party. A number of Marines aboard the deck seemed to be enjoying a relatively relaxed morning; an atmosphere unsuitable for the serious undertaking ahead. The superior officer was already unenthused with the formalities intrinsic to the mission.

"Morning tea sir?" Moreau offered while simultaneously responding in earnest. He was confused as to why his hospitality was being met with hostility.

"Aren't you the little whelp I had to send below deck last night? You've got a whole lot of opinions on how to sail for somebody who can't hold the damn rope steady." The man glowered down at Moreau, immediately taking a disliking to the posh and scrawny gent.

As Moreau offered a cup of tea to his superior the man swatted the cup to the deck, shattering Moreau's porcelain delusion of companionship. "This ain't a tea party kids! Why don't you all get a move on and get ready to dock the ship!"

And thus the sanctity of morning tea was despoiled. There were more important matters at hand.

5:50 AM | Docks of Port Teardrop

As the crew landed at Port Teardrop Moreau aided them in transporting their luggage to the deck, bantering with Stone as the two readied themselves for the task ahead “Sir I do understand that this mission is a bit unconventional but it’s good to get out of your element every now and then, we’ve been told to enter under the guise of attending a wedding so it only seems suitable that we should dress as such.” The Captain seemed unenthused.

Many of the lower ranking Marines aboard the merchantman took turns using the ship’s private rooms to change from their civilian clothes into the base layers of their disguises, after letting down the gangway the crew filtered down onto the bustling deck.

As Stone shattered a crate in frustration with the un-accommodating hems of his jackets, Moreau spoke reassuringly to his captain “You know Sir it’s not uncustomary to dress down in such a tropical climate, even for an ostensibly formal affair. I can hardly stand the heat myself so I’ve only opted for a cotton button-down and a tie.” The mere thought of wearing a jacket in this weather gave the cold-adjusted gentleman visions of heat stroke and swamping sweat.

Moreau went about inspecting the disguises of the men and querying their cover identities. After 5 minutes of inquisition he seemed satisfied with the group's preparations; however one of the Marines had wandered off as soon as she'd changed into her disguise. Moreau informed Stone of the missing Petty Officer before grabbing one of the crewmen as backup and chasing into the portside.

6:05 to 6:55 AM | Streets of Port Teardrop

The two “groomsmen” looked rather out of place running through the lively streets of the Jolly Keys, a location known for its coarse and corsair citizenry. As the two bowled over fisherman and no-name freebooters in their path they came to an intersection in the road, along which two long buildings housed a pair of seedy establishments:

The first a shoddily constructed watering hole, though the location smelled damp and dank, there was still obviously some unique draw lending to the number of patrons. In fact, this bar was known by the pirates in town for the rare and delicious honey-fish that the owner bred and allowed to swim in his alcoholic beverages.

The second building is a smoke-filled gambling den, the occupants here smoke a local herb not dissimilar to tobacco or hemp, but productive of a red-tinted smoke and ludo-maniacal intoxication. Loud exclamations at every win and loss can be heard from inside, the building seems to violently shake from the gambler’s excitement.

Moreau paused a moment before speaking to his comrade. “Well Ironsides, pick your poison. Yumiko doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy either of these premises, but all the more reason to make sure somebody hasn’t spirited her away into one of them.” The gentleman spoke with earnest concern for his colleague, but not knowing Yumiko’s capabilities. The novice Ensign was drastically underestimating Yumiko in assuming that she could be made to go anywhere at the behest of whatever random scallywags occupied these structures.

Moreau allowed Ironsides to choose his location to investigate, before entering the other and looking for his lost compatriot. In the two’s search they could not find Yumiko, but for a short period of time were each drawn into the strange affairs of the location they investigated.

As Moreau was well into his search of the building he tuned in to what sounded like the thunderous roaring of an ursine beast in the distance; this roaring seemed to form words however, immediately cluing Moreau into its source. Stone must have found her.

Though a man attempted to obstruct Moreau’s exit, perhaps intending to rob him, the gentleman was in no mood, and so transformed his hand into a gun before pistol-whipping the ruffian unconscious. The gentle-weapon bolted down the stairs and into the other building to retrieve Ironsides. “Come on! We found her!”

The two Marines scrambled frantically towards the sound of Stone's vociferous bellowing. In the labyrinthine streets and alcoves of Port Teardrop they were like rats in a maze, well dressed rats, but trapped and confused ones nonetheless. After darting around corners, stalls, people, and buildings the two came to the area from which their Captain's rancor emanated.

The scene skewed before the two novices was a riotous altercation, man after man seemed to pour from the doors of the nearby brothel. Through the fray Moreau made eye contact with Stone, several men interposed themselves between the large man and the nearby alleyway. Looking into the alley’s depths, Moreau saw the small woman, defending herself against several men with only her fists and a small instrument case; the embers of chivalry within the gentleman's heart burned, propelling him into action. Moreau transformed his left arm into a sturdy lucerne hammer before vaulting his way into the alleyway. Yumiko was backed into a corner, but now had the support of two allies. The gentleman was all too enthused to shatter the ribs of one of Yumiko's assailants.

“How vile. You disgusting louts, drooling over whatever woman crosses your path.” Moreau declared, interposing himself between the remaining men in the alley and Yumiko and locking eyes with Yumiko's burly harasser. “Perhaps if you weren’t such a creep-” as the gentleman attempted to continue his reprimand the big lug swept his feet from beneath him, causing Moreau to topple to the rough dirt below. The thuggish man broke into a malicious grin as he raised his foot to stomp his prey's chest in.

The large man laughed down at the wedding-goer he’d tripped.
“Riiif-rafraf! How ‘bout ya shut your mouth pretty boy.”

Spoiler:

Sun Jul 17, 2022 11:00 am

6:00 AM

Crew cabin, Emilia's Interior

Somewhere in the skies over The Jolly Keys

A loud noise could be heard between the walls of Emilia's crew cabin, the flying metal blimp. Not as loud or powerful to rattle the ship and create echoing noise throughout the entire blimp, unlike the ship's engine, but loud enough to echo throughout the room which was the resting place for the crew Emilia.

The snoring came from none other than the sole sleeper left in the room at that very moment. That being Karl himself. The man was deep asleep in the hammock made out of multiple ropes, hanging between the two wooden pillars with metal supports.

It has been a good couple of months since Karl had been dragged along onto this flying deathtrap by its captain. Through a lot of reluctance, the man accepted his fate over this short period of time. The life he knew is no longer there. His actions and everything that involved him had pushed him on a different path in life. The path of a criminal, as much as he dislikes it. Heck, the man to this day tries to avoid it as much as he can. It is however hard to justify his thoughts, considering his now part of this very crew of the ship.

But, there was still one very common theme about this whole situation. The man to this day still believes that everything that had happened to him, the things that had pushed him onto this very path, were still, at their very core, an accident. The man was, by no means, a clean boy himself. His decisions are as much to be blamed as those of others... But sometimes it is easier to live in denial than accept the cold harsh truth.

Due to the deep slumber, the entire sneaking sequence of Bill went unnoticed, as the man had planned. Within these past few months, Karl had finally begun to get used to his life on the blimp. The man was not a fan of flying, even until now, and he probably will never be. But he had begun to feel more confident in this rattling vehicle to not fail them and crash down. Thanks to this acceptance, he had even started to sleep better!

Or...

It is quite possible that his deep slumber is thanks to a certain magical juice that is contained in a brown bottle standing down on the ground right next to the hanging hammock, and next to it, a small glass with some of that light brown colored magical juice remaining.

6:04 AM

Crew cabin, Emilia's Interior

Still somewhere in the skies over The Jolly Keys

[plyr=pirt]"Hrm... What... What... WHAT?!"[/plyr]

The 'eternal' slumber was disturbed by the captain of the blimp, Volo, and Karl responded to the calls of his name, with a rough and growling voice. The man was clearly not happy to be woken up, not to mention he was clearly not in his best shape at this very moment.

All of this, and for nothing. His slumber was disturbed, only to hear the words 'nevermind'. [plyr=pirt]"Get the heck out of here!"[/plyr] had the man had any strength to deal with this longer, he would have thrown something in his reach at Volo.

As Karl tried to re-enter his slumber, he sniffled his nose. Something irritating was in the air in the very room. Something that irritated his nose and also his eyes. As the eyes opened once more, all he could see was a cloud of dark gray smoke.

[plyr=pirt]"Hrm... What part of do not disturb don't you understand?"[/plyr]

To get more sleep at this very point was not possible. Karl sat up and got off the hammock. The head felt heavy, the body felt weak, the stomach felt like it was steering a pot inside, and the eyes were tired. Carefully he bent himself over and took a hold of the half-full bottle and the glass with some of its contents left in it.

The glass, however, did not stay with him for too long as he shoved it to Volo to be held. [plyr=pirt]"Don't you dare drop a single piece of ash or a single bud down. It took me too darn long to polish room up."[/plyr] Karl handed out the order with a very tired and raspy voice. He had every right to be angry if what he had asked to not be done, was done.

The very room they are standing in at this very moment, the crew cabin, has had major cleanup done by none other than Karl who could not stand living in the filthy condition that this room was before. The floor was full of ashes and cigarette buds, the same could be said about the drawers and even barrels. Where ever you turned, you could see them. If that wasn't bad enough, the smoke from cigarettes had begun to taint the wooden and metal frames and walls in this very room, began to turn them darker. If one was to step into the room, it reeked of cigarettes. It was like a smoked sauna, except stinky.

But no-more. The room had turned for good into a neutral scented cleaned-up room, one could even see some shiny reflections from the wooden floor. Karl tolerated this kind of behavior no more in these rooms. They had to be fit for a living! And he had plans to do this to each and every room... Only it would take for ages since it seemed he was the only one caring for the cleanliness of the.

As Karl had handed the glass over to Volo to be used as an ashtray for his cigarette, he took one last glance at him before leaving the room. [plyr=pirt]"I would very much appreciate it if you smoked all your troubles away up on the deck!"[/plyr]. The door was slammed shut and Karl was heading towards somewhere else.

The road to somewhere else in this very room was full of leaning against the wall with one hand and swearing to never do what he had done the previous night. along with slow and careful walking and groaning from the horrible feeling he had.

[plyr=pirt]"Never again... Am I sampling so much, on my own made drinks..."[/plyr]

6:09 AM

Storage room no.1, Emilia's Interior

Still somewhere in the skies over The Jolly Keys

Karl pushed the door open with his left hand, leaving it open as he had entered into the same well-cleaned-up room as the crew cabin had been. This one however contained multiple crates that were all neatly placed by one of the walls. On the other side of the room, next to the other room, there was a small counter created out of two crates, which had a plank of wood placed as an extra on top of it, creating a table surface.

Behind the counter, there were four crates set down in rows, with each having its tops removed. The crates created a neat line of selection of what was contained in them... Booze. Karl had created a small makeshift bar in that said storage room. He was not there to serve the clients, he served the crew, sometimes.

The bar also served as his training ground for his hobby that started off from the job. The man experimented on different kinds of drinks, and last night was one of few evenings where he got so carried away, that it ended up causing his current mood.

The half-empty bottle was placed back in the crate among others of its kind. While doing so, he also did a quick inventory check to make sure nothing was missing, especially one of the bottles that he was paying very close attention to. Luckily, it was still there.

[plyr=pirt]"Thank god... I really need to find a better place for you... Those rat bastards cannot differentiate you from the bottom shelf rum"[/plyr]

6:28AM

Storage room no.1, Emilia's Interior

Still somewhere in the skies over The Jolly Keys

The sudden splurting sound could be heard echoing through the ship and then something odd happened. The rattling that this blimp was famous for in Karl's eyes, had stopped, momentarily at least. It did not take too long until the rattle of the ship had returned, this time for a different reason.

The crates in the storage room had begun to move, despite them having been tied down hard. They had been tied down around, but what happened when the gravity did its own work and the crates lift off from the ground, that is a whole other story.

[plyr=pirt]"No..."[/plyr] Karl mumbled in disbelief. He could see the crates lifting themselves off the ground and sliding away in the very room... The same could be said about the crates that had their lids open. Karl himself also was sliding away from the very spot. smashing into the pillar in the middle of the storage room, around which he wrapped his arms and legs.

[plyr=pirt]"No no no no, what is happening? Just when I! OH NO!"[/plyr]

The open-covered crates had flipped over, letting the bottles and other goods roll out of them, smashing some of the bottles, leaving the floor a sticky mess thanks to all the booze. Among those bottles, was also Karl's current priced drink.

[plyr=pirt]"This... Can't be... THIS IS WHY I HATE FLYING!"[/plyr]

And way down... They go.

[1559/1559/10 000]

Group:

Tue Jul 19, 2022 4:53 pm

4:00 am

Of course it was a hurricane. The first major joint operation as a marine and John would be buried honorably in the seas without ever seeing the so called Jolly Keys. John had woken early, more accurately nerves and waves had rendered him unable to sleep much at all. Instead he busied himself tending to those wounded by the rough waves. Thankfully the marines who were part of this operation were ampparently made of much tougher stuff. What few injuries had been reported were light; a bit of care to numb the pain and they'd be in fighting condition before long. He'd been at it for awhile when Moreau came down offering him tea in the medbay, he wouldn't hear about his altercation with their superiors until later.

6:00 to 6:55 am

If there was one good thing about this whole endeavor it was the event. A wedding meant fine suits and finer manners. After some pondering John settled for a red suit and tie, black dress shirt and black shoes to match; all in all very respectable without seeking to outshine or attract a dangerous amount of attention. By the time he was above deck Moreau was already at the end of his inspection. He had expected to be the last one out; instead they were missing a member altogether by the name of Yumiko. John wasn't one to blame luck for his problems but today was shaping up to be a bad one and they had yet to even really start their business here.

It wasn't long till her and Moreau came upon the two establishments and he was given first dibs. "I'll take the gambling den. If she's in there I'll be sure to call for backup." With a final nod Ironsides walks into the den. It didn't take a herbalist to identify the herb they were smoking or that it wasn't of a particularly good quality. Yumiko had chosen the worst possible place to get lost; amidst people that had nothing but their lives to lose.

Taking a quick seat at the table nearest the door he began to play a round of cards while scanning the room. Even as he sat 4 or 5 men instantly joined their group; a rich boy in a good suit was easy money to these people. He was happy to play the role and happily lost money to these ruffians as long as they gave him good cover. It took a while but he aas fairly certain there was no marines in this place but he decided to be sure on his way out. My mother always said that Kindness is the mother of all wisdom; but I don't think I an afford to keep losing all day." The comment attracted a few laughs from the surrounding gamblers but with no further reaction to the code phrase he was done there. He was wondering what next till he heard the telltale shout of his captain and Moreau calling to go. He nodded to the fellow players, leaving his bid on the table and was swiftly on the move.

It took them only a few moments to navigate the concrete jungle of the back alleys before coming across the scene of Yumiko sorrounded by all the ruffians. Moreau's attempt to gain control was met with immediate violence and as the burly man attempted to crush his crewmate Ironsides struck his foot aside with a hammer just in time. On another day they'd put all these brutes in a cell but today they were small fry. Rather than risk more violence Ironsides elcted to bluff nd mustered all his noble training to speak with authority.

"What do you idiots think you're doing? The wedding hired her to play; if she shows up dusty or damaged the bosses are gonna flay us all!! Are you all dumb enough to piss off the bosses on this day of them all?" As he spoke he drew his other hammers and took on a stern expression. Hopefully their attire and ever increasing numbers would make the bluff believable. to most of the ruffians.

Spoiler:

Wed Jul 20, 2022 7:18 am

Step by step, Yumiko backed away from the thugs. Her slow retreat was stopped short by the caress of cold bricks against her back. Surrounded against a wall, she was robbed of the option of ‘flight’. That left ‘fight’ as the only way out...

But how, exactly?

Beneath the frigid stare, the disguised marine was measuring her options. On one end of the imaginary balancing scale was her undercover mission. Heavy like a collection of cannonballs, it dragged the bowl all the way down. Finding a reason that weighed more would be difficult...

Revealing the blade was out of the question, for it would ruin the cover story. The weasel couldn’t let anyone know a foreign swordsman was causing commotion on the island. In a similar vein, transforming would surely spark recognition among the criminal element. Even her wind powers might rouse suspicion, as it was her personal curse. In this den of filth, rumors spread like roaches.

Thus, the disguised agent was only left with her flute case... And her fists. The instructions of a friend echoed through her mind. Slowly, her fingers curled into a firm fist. She took aim... And let loose with her full might! Her swift punch found its mark with all the force and fury of a stick poking a pillow. If there had been a sound effect for the impact, it would’ve been ‘biff’ or something equally soft.

Turns out swordsmanship translated poorly to boxing.

Go figure.

The thug retaliated only with a baffled stare. His round gut hardly even felt the tiny fist. Slowly, his lips twisted into a slimy smile. “Oh ho~ Feisty~” Leaning closer, he loomed over the short woman. “I like that~” His long tongue dripped with drool.

However, a sudden shout stopped the show. All eyes turned towards the stranger. Annoyance quickly changed to panic, as they all had to crane their gazes upwards. Even the burly, beer gut boss was several heads shorter than the gigantic enforcer.

Now, the downtrodden and desperate thugs of Port Teardrop could be accused of many things... Greed, violence, offensive body odor to name a few... But cowardice was not one of them. “...Get that fucker!” And neither was intelligence, apparently.

A violent brawl ensued. Some charged the towering man, others went for the short woman. Yumiko, for her part, took to wielding her luggage and fists in an attempt to defend herself. Both proved hilariously ineffective against hardened thugs who considered bar fights a fun pastime. She was being pushed around like a reed in the wind, putting up very meager resistance against the groping hands.

Luckily, the cavalry came running. First, a heroic gentleman came vaulting in, putting a pause in the burly thug’s pawing. ...Before eating dirt. Well, it was the thought that counted.

The second arrival caused a bigger disruption, with his narrow save. His bluff sent visible hesitation across the group of riffraff, like ripples in a pond. Only the long-tongued leader dared to question it. “Weddin’...?” He scratched his unshaven stubble. “I wasn’t invited to no stinkin’ weddin’. Were you guise?” He only got uncertain mutters from his buddies. Some were definitely buying it...

Yumiko, meanwhile, could hardly believe her ears. Her right eye twitched and ponytail bristled. Suddenly, she stepped forward and thrust an accusing finger right in the leading thug’s face. “Foul fiends! Thou dare harass an innocent maiden as well?!” Her dramatic declaration echoed through the alley. “What have thou done to her? Where is she?” The pointing finger squished the thug’s nose, as she insistently pressed the issue.

Briefly, all fighting stopped. An unbearably awkward pause plopped itself between the people. Somewhere in the distance, a passing seagull laughed. Finally, the huge thug managed to stammer something.

“Wha-? But... Right here.”

Not in the mood for games, the marine squinted suspiciously. “Where exactly???”

“Uh... That’s... We’re talkin’ ‘bout you...”

A couple of quiet seconds crept past. Then, Yumiko’s eyes widened as the realization slowly dawned. “...Ah.” The righteous rage was snuffed out in an instant. “‘Tis true. I am a maiden right now.” Only blunt honesty remained. She sheepishly withdrew her accusation and bowed her head. “I deeply apologize for the misunderstanding.” Even if they were enemies, it cost nothing to be polite.

Getting caught up in the moment, the burly troublemaker scratched the back of his mohawk. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m sorry for... WAITAMINUTE! Like hell I am!” He recoiled from the sheer mood whiplash.

Fists flailing, the rude thug barked furiously at the sharp-dressed strangers. “Just shut it! Quit confusin’ me! I want booty and I’m gettin’ booty!” He took a wild swing at the woman, bashing her against the wall. Something broke with a nasty crack. She slumped down, clutching her gut.

The passionate declaration promptly reignited the brawl. For honor, for booty, just for the hell of it, more thugs joined the fray. They may have been just mouthy small fry, but they had numbers and fervor on their side. No secrets or fancy outfits to protect either.

Yumiko slouched against the wall, cradling the flute case against her chest. “I have... made a terrible mistake...” The broken case fell apart from the seams, revealing a sheathed sword. With the cover blown, the imaginary scale tilted swiftly. The safety of her comrades weighed more than anything.

A cold gust blew through the crowded alley, coming from the dead end. Sharp steel gleamed for a blink. In a blur of motion, the swordswoman appeared past the riff raff. The brawl stopped. Slowly, methodically, the blade slid into its sheath, finding home with a soft click. One after another, the thugs collapsed with a chorus of breathless wheezes.

---

Words: 949
Total: 1777
Group: Hunting Party
Approximate time frame: Between 7:00 A.M. and 7:50 A.M.

Wed Jul 20, 2022 6:01 pm

Following Stone’s thunderous shout, the group of men went silent for just a few moments. Once that brief moment of tranquility passed the riff-raff rallied behind the words of their apparent leader. Causing a good portion of the blood-and-booze thirsty vagabonds to charge at the Hunting Party’s Captain.

While Stone was not one to enjoy fighting, he knew types like these all too well. They would not listen to reason or make negotiations of any kind. Men like this only could truly comprehend the consequences of their actions one way.

Through hard-fought battle.

The first of the fodder to run up to the Kodiak was the luckiest. Rolling up the sleeves of his salmon dress shirt, Stone wasted no time and spared the scoundrels little mercy. His first punch of many connected square in the man’s head, sending him hurtling into some of his comrades. But the fallen group of riff-raff only seemed to have minor to mild injuries at best. It was only natural, Stone had heard through the grapevine that Yumiko had some sort of connection to Rear Admiral La’Croix back home in the North Blue. He could only assume that if these men were giving a soldier of Yumiko’s caliber trouble then he would be wise to take their predicament seriously.

The next challenger of the half-giant jumped into Stone’s blind spot. It might have even caught Stone off guard if his enemy had any attempt at moving quietly. After waiting for the man to enter his range, Stone lunged at the poor soul and grabbed his legs. Holding the bandit upside down Stone spoke sternly and professionally. “I am sorry that it ended up being you.”

The dull criminal spoke but was cut-off part way through. “Tha fuck do ya’ mea–”

The Kodiak thrashed the man around wildly. Despite the harsh action, Stone hoped that by making an example out of one of them the rest would cease their harassment of Yumiko. At first, Stone assumed that the plan was working. No one had approached him to fight since he started wailing on the poor soul, but none of them seemed affected too much moral-wise. For people that spend time or live in a den of crime such as the area that the marines found themselves in. Excessive violence was just the status quo.

Interrupting Stone’s poorly improvised plan, Moreau gallantly leaped into the scene and began to scold the assailants for their actions, before quickly being assaulted by their leader. Just before Stone was going to jump in himself, Chief Petty Officer Ironsides also made his heroic entrance. The announcement of the upcoming wedding was quite clever as a distraction, but it was only a temporary diversion from the mindless anger of the thugs.

Sensing an opportunity to speak up over the lack of confidence from the group of louts. Stone cleared his throat but then was spoken over himself.

If the mention of the wedding wasn’t enough to thoroughly confuse their opponents. Yumiko’s ironic question seemed to confuse them even more. The awkward silence as the riff-raff’s leader tried to piece his words together hurt Stone more than any battle ever could.

Even more shocking was the man’s sincere, yet brief apology to Yumiko. The sheer absurdity of the events that were happening in front of Stone made him wonder if he had suffered a head injury during the hurricane.

The nasty hit that the mohawk-having ruffian landed on Yumiko was enough to bring Stone’s attention back to the present. After more thugs began to join the brawl, Stone jumped closer to Yumiko, not allowing any of the cowards to hit a comrade who could not defend themselves.

Out of the corner of Stone's eye, he saw that the case that Yumiko had held was now broken, revealing a blade inside. A cold, but vaguely familiar wind moved through the alleyway, seemingly taking Yumiko with her from Stone’s perspective. The sound of a click was clearly heard by Stone in the now quiet alleyway. As their enemies fell one after the other, Stone approached the swordswoman. “I can’t quite remember if we were ever properly acquainted. I am Captain Okirama, but just call me Stone.”

Gesturing over to his crewmates, Stone introduced them as well. “That gentleman over there is Moreau. The good doctor over there is John.”

Looking up to the sky Stone acted like he was trying to gauge what time it was, despite having no idea what he was doing.

“We have to meet up with the others by 8 AM. Luckily they informed me where the meeting place is. Let’s hurry on over there, with any luck we might even make it on time.”

Leading the charge was one of the few times that Stone felt that his height was a benefit and not a hindrance. Sure, being able to grab things atop very tall shelves was helpful but when you are as big as Stone and running as fast as possible people tend to move out of the way. All things considered, the Captain believed they were making good time.

Reaching the outside of Warehouse No. 28, Stone noticed that only two sentries remained outside. Fearing the worst, the Captain picked up the pace even more and quickly found himself in front of the guardsman. “Kindness is the mother of all wisdom.”

After waiting a few seconds the group was led into the warehouse. Stone did not quite understand what was being discussed beforehand, but after loudly entering all voices inside abruptly went silent. Feeling the eyes of his peers staring right through him, the Captain could only think one thing. “This is so embarrassing!”

Word Count:

RP Group:

Fri Jul 22, 2022 9:45 pm

The Night Before, Unnamed Island

Stars shine down on the remote island as street lights illuminated the cobblestone roads. Many had gone to sleep, as this was a law-abiding town that seemingly lacked any zest or flavor. The Marines that were stationed here were few and far between, but they did take their jobs seriously and patrolled the streets with fervor. At first, they had assumed that Subarashi’s motley crew was an invading force of Pirates.

But it didn’t take long to realize that the entire flock of women immediately took off towards the town-square, without so much of an attempt at pillaging.

The girls scrambled to gather around in a large mass for their glorious and beloved leader, the immaculately beautiful stout king, Subarashiiii. Whose sultry dulcet tones rang out towards his fanbase, calming their hearts and preparing them for the task at hand.

“No matter the case, we must come together and bring in these criminals in a manner most bombastic.” He’d flip his hair, giving a wink towards his compatriots and sending them whipped up into a frenzy.

Though as he stood on his little wooden box, here in the center of some unimportant island, the women who actually got shit done were standing near a large bounty board that listed several big named pirates and criminals that were located somewhere in La Crima. To say they were spoiled for choice was an understatement to be sure. Especially given the fact that some of these Pirates were just way too powerful for their group to hunt down, but they did have lesser members that were more in their wheelhouse.

Standing closest to the board was the raven-haired beauty, Hifune. Seen wearing a black fur coat that stopped at her midriff, showcasing her abdomen. She wore a burgundy tank top underneath that was visible with the words Panic written across the chest. Black leather booty shorts hugged her waist and thighs while her stark white belt held them up. Halfway up her thighs, she wore leggings that went down to her shin-high boots, both being black in color. She was curious about the contents of the board, having studied the papers thoroughly.

“Even though Master is having fun, let us remember to be discreet… we are way too outmanned and outgunned to be running around this island recklessly. We need to approach this in a manner that is more… intelligent.” Hifune remarked as her sapphire blue eyes focused on the wanted posters.

She was the true leader of this little gang of now-hardened bounty huntresses.

The glugging of alcohol could be heard not too far from her, and the clacking of apple-wood sandals could be heard clattering against the cobblestones all the while. Her gray eyes lazily glanced over towards the leader of this little posse as she made her way forward. The approaching seven-foot tall woman with stark blonde hair came up to Hifune. Removing her large gourd from her lips and making a sound of refreshment before she’d wear a huge grin.

“Ahhh… might be a bit of a problem… but sheeesh. We will handle it easily..” She chuckled loudly and with authority in her voice.

Yukina often was the loudest in the group.

Her eyes peered over towards a figure that was not a part of the Harem but was still someone whose womanly assets were very noticeable. Whomever this strange woman was, she spoke to her cheerfully, unlike she had with her own crew of women.

“If you want, you can join us. We have a ship that can fit a lot more people on it. You seem to be eyeing the same bounty that we are.” Hifune spoke confidently to the woman whose hair was pink and green, pointing at the picture of this strange-looking man. “Not every day there is a bounty to capture a Revolutionary of note.”

She’d cross her arms underneath her chest, raising an eyebrow.

“The name is Hifune, Mistress of the Berri Bordello Bounty Hunters, nice to meet you. If you want, we can go over some details of the hunt… we can split the share in your favor, we aren’t interested in the money.” Which was true, they just wanted the reputation.

She waited to hear a response, they’d have to get to the island sooner rather than later, but there was a bit of time before they boarded the ship. And once they would, they’d be swept up into that hurricane and end up right on La Crima.

4:00am - Next Day

“Well, that was a rough night but we managed to get through that storm without being completely obliterated… How are you feeling?” Hifune questioned as she began her way down the plank, thinking that it was a good idea to go over the discussion from last night once more.

But before she could, the larger woman, Yukina, came down the ramp in her black kimono that was covered in blood-red tulips. Her two katanas resting on her right hip. And on her back rode Subarashi himself. Who clung to her back while wearing his armor and his own sword at his side.

“Good morning, ladies… hmm.. I do not recall seeing this one… no matter we can have some fun later. For now! We must enact justice on this isle of absolute… villainy. Onward, Yuki!” Subarashi clicked his heels against the brute of a woman’s thighs, and it sent her into a blushing frenzy as she walked away from Hifune and Alexi.

“Ah.. Haha... Sorry about that. Master is a bit… eccentric. She admitted before she stretched out her arms and tightened her extendable staff against her waist. So, we should go over the particulars again. Do you agree?” She began to walk down the dock, which, they did pay a rather exorbitant fee to do, but money wasn’t an object for this crew since one of their members was literally a prissy little rich girl.

“His name is Growl R. Huntsly, he used to be a member of the New Revolutionary Army, but went rogue and started to do things on his own methodology. He is wanted not only by the NRA but the World Government as well. He’s made many foes, but he is an idiot. Coming to a Pirate Haven only makes it easier to catch you, especially if you have nothing to offer those who could protect you….” This voice belonged to none other than Kiyomi, the Sniper and the third strongest member of this little Bordello.

She ran her fingers through her brunette hair, emerald eyes fixated on Alexi as she spoke. “Shouldn’t be much of a problem.” This woman was dressed in a white and blue coat that went down to her thighs as though she was royalty and she had a flintlock pistol on her hip, hanging off her little belt. Her feet clacked against the wood of the docks, she was willing to answer any questions while they still had the time.

Growl R. Huntsly

Sabian -> Emmy -> Subarashi -> Alexi -> Pikasso

{ 1166 | 1166 | 10000 }

sucré @ gs

Fri Jul 22, 2022 10:14 pm

Big Don Ýnami found himself in a peculiar situation. Here he was, in a hotel that was usually reserved for a financial bracket far beyond his own means... waiting around with a woman that he had been getting innumerable mixed signals from.

It was the worst-case scenario for the best man around. Something that caused a great sense of dread to pour into his heart and saturate like a fat guy's arteries.

He recalled how he had gotten under her skin back when she was in her business meeting with the old man, Curtis Rigatoni, and he was shocked that she still wanted to keep him around.

Especially since he had seen how she handled dealing with others who made arguably small transgressions against her in the past. On the one hand, it made him feel special... given the number of things he had gotten away with. But on the other... it was a frightful experience to be sure.

Teetering on the edge of a daunting, perilous cliff was not enjoyable to those who didn't actively seek out such thrills. Adonis was not the kind of man that sought such, aggravatingly depressing circumstances for himself.

He'd much rather spend all of his time standing around in a dank dark alleyway performing free surgeries for complete strangers.

It was a far safer endeavor than trying to figure out a woman.

His attention snapped towards the woman behind the desk and though he caught Ebony looking at him while the frumpy desk lady prattled on, Adonis could do little beyond allow his disinterest to build within himself to the point complete and utter overload. Taking on an expression so vacant that you could rent it as a hotel suite at half the going rate.

His attention found itself divided even further as he looked over towards the approaching bellhop. He could see that the quality of this man's organs was subpar at best... as though this guy was some sort of street urchin playing dress-up.

This entire trip was proving worthless to Adonis thus far.

Had he known that he'd be playing in such a boujee location, he'd have gone ahead and worn something a little more appropriate. Yet here he was in his medical fatigues with a long black overcoat over his body. Looking like some sort of horror movie slasher villain just one hook-up scene away from striking someone dead. It was obnoxious how easily he found himself caught up in these situations. But at least he didn't have to go at it on his own. Ebony's presence was still worth having around, despite how bizarre she was being.

Adonis wondered what kind of deal required them to be here long enough to pay for a room. He didn't even know how many days or nights they'd be staying here either. Which was a problem in and of itself, since he wanted to have as much information as possible about any sort of dealings prior to them occurring.

Fortunately, he trusted Ebony to handle all of the hidden details at her own discretion. Perhaps she didn't know what the pair was exactly looking for, but that would be revealed soon enough. He didn't have any faith in Curtis, he thought of the man to be suspicious.

If not for his loyalty to Eb, Curtis would be a corpse.

It only took a few minutes before Adonis' found his attention fixed on the back of Ebony's head. He wondered how such a lithe lady could be the cause for so much brutality... not that he was complaining. It was just something strange that he noticed.

By the time that the pair reached their lodgings, he took a moment to look around the room, watching Ebony closely as his eyebrow rose. Talk about mixed signals to be sure. Though... perhaps there weren't any mistakes in his observations at all.

It made sense right? She was now here on a remote island without their gang with just him. Such an occurrence was just what the doctor ordered.

It had been far too long since the last time that the pair came together to do anything sweet like this.

Don was never the kind of man that allowed his emotional state to get out of hand while sober, but he could do little beyond finding his face twist into the visage of a Cheshire cat. Allowing for his mischievous grin to become a beacon into his inner thoughts. Unfortunately, it didn't seem as though Ebony cared enough to pay attention to him and his antics. She was far too busy reading a letter.

Before he could comment, she seemed to have crumpled up the letter and stormed off. Probably due to the fact that there wasn't a suitable bottle of wine for the pair to imbibe. He found this knowledge to be most likely and decided that for now, it was best to put away the luggage until his girlfriend returned.

Of course, she was his girlfriend! They had their moments multiple times over the last few months now. And it was starting to get pretty serious if she was going to get them a room like this. Why else would she order this room for the both of them? Playing into her inability to say the words out loud. But he was never the picky type. He'd let her express her love and devotion for him in any way that she wanted.

Despite her leaving the room, he did not chase her down. Choosing instead to make his way over towards the luggage, starting with his employers, unpacking it, and putting things away. Blushing like some sort of heavily drunken individual all the while.

He was just glad now that he wasn't mistaken about her intentions back when he was drunk on Baterilla. Now there wasn't a single doubt in his mind about where he stood with his new employer.

Talk about one of the best jobs ever.

Especially given the fact that the rest of their make-shift mafia didn't come along with them. He didn't particularly dislike the other members of his group, but he had little to no interest in having to deal with the clashing personalities that Ebony had gathered together to form her little collective.

"Best to get the business out of the way... and then the pleasure will come naturally. Squeezazaza!~?"

This was going to be his vacation. Coom hell or thigh water.

{ 1075 | 1075 | 10000 }

sucré @ gs

Sat Jul 23, 2022 12:17 pm

Hoping to convince his other crew mates that he'd been sleeping, the secretive Cipher Pol agent had laid down in a hammock above deck after Susu had skittered off. He had closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. He had even started snoring a little bit to really sell the act. Dishearteningly though, it all turned out to be unnecessary as neither Volo nor Karl even seemed to notice Bill once they woke up.

“My effort is wasted on these morons,” thought the gunslinger.

Not that it mattered. A moment later the engine seized up and the ship lurched downwards. Emilia began to shake, rattle and fall. Slowly and steadily at first but her pained movements quickly became faster and more intense.

“Damn it Volo! What happened!?” shouted Bill as if he didn't know.

With Volo being down in the engine room and Karl just being generally useless in a crisis situation, Bill took it on himself to get the crew to relative safety. He quickly jumped to his feet and made a b-line for the wheelhouse. Bill gripped the wheel for dear life as the ground started getting closer, the buildings started getting bigger, and every instrument on the ship it seemed was sounding off.

Bill fought with all his might as he tried to control the great blimp's descent as much as he could. Time seemed to slow down for the gunslinger as his fight or flight response kicked in and adrenaline flooded his senses. This was bad. Worse than he'd expected but he just had to think logically.

He needed to focus on two things now. First priority was to make sure he and Volo survived the crash. Karl's survival would be a bonus but not a necessity. The barman was not essential to the mission from Cipher Pol. Second priority was to minimize civilian causalities. There was no reason they deserved to die for the mission.

"But how? The shoreline!"

They were too far inland to reach the ocean and a mid-nosedive U-turn was completely out of the question but he figured that maybe, if he cranked hard enough of the steering, he could land along the shore. There was very little on the island's beaches except sand and rocks. As long as he avoided any docks there would be no causalities and as long as he avoided the rocks everybody onboard would survive. Probably.

“Hang on to something! We're about to crash!” shouted Bill over Emilia's intercom.

0700 hours, Crashing into Dexter Eyeland

Word count: 418
Total word count: 1120
Group: Karl, Volo

Sun Jul 24, 2022 11:17 pm

Around 4:00-4:30 AM April 1st, 1829 : The Hull of an Unknown Vessel Docked Near La Crima, Dexter Eyeland, Jolly Keys

Poor weather had always been one of the banes of Aya's life. The runty red panda had never fared well in storms and found her usually silky mink unable to keep from prickling up when faced with both the din of roaring thunder and wind, as well as the latent charge that hung in the air.

The dank belly of a smuggling vessel certainly did not improve this assault on the senses. In the dark, a still much too fluffed mink tried to quell her rabbit heart with the assurance that she had just heard the crew shouting about docking the ship. She needed no further excuse to fade into the background and begin her shaky ascent to the sweet stability of dry land.

There were a few moments in the heart of the storm where she wasn't sure she'd ever reach her destination. As soon as she could scramble past the unloading crew she did so without hesitation. Solid land felt still under her feet and it brought relief no other feeling could. The joy faded quickly as the aching toll of the travel set into her body. She was exhausted, and there was only one thing to ease her frazzled nerves.

Coffee and cake.

Preferably with strawberries.

Pikasso began her snooping like she began most things nowadays; trying to track down an open café.

About 4:30-5:00 AM April 1st, 1829 : Somewhere in The Streets of La Crima, Dexter Eyeland, Jolly Keys

"Oh... Pardon me."

A drunkard stumbling towards some sort of hopeful respite for what remained of the early morning frantically searched the street behind him for whatever had just bumped into him and the source of the soft voice that had apologized for it. The grimy roadway seemed free of any perpetrator...

And in a baffling moment of disbelief at the all too real sensation he had just felt, he swore off the hooch right then and there.

Down the road, the transparent form of a short mink dusted her shoulder off where it had made contact with the stranger. Aya was starting to think that this might not be the sort of place to have much to offer in terms of cakes or pastries, but she was determined to not dash her own hopes too quickly.

Beauty could be found in the most surprising of places.

Right this moment, it was the warm welcoming glow diffusing from the windows of a surprisingly occupied establishment like the light of a port in a storm. The tell-tale scent of roasted coffee pulled her senses into an earthy embrace. Yes, this was it! Now it was just a matter of waiting.

An idle whisp of spiced floral smoke swirled through the air outside of the cafe, dissipating into the open morning sky before anyone could pay it much mind. As a pair of would-be patrons started heading for the door to enter, Aya's cigarette snuffed out on the stone walkway before she silently fell in line directly behind them.

Slipping through the door was easy enough. It was the cautiously-stepped dance of trying to stay out of the way, avoid being trampled by unsuspecting lesser minks, and keep from backing herself into a corner that provided the most issue. The sensitive fluff of her tail wrapped protectively around her transparent form, the mink knowing all too well the danger the phantom fuzz was in if she wasn't watching it carefully.

With a bit of side-stepping little Pikasso managed to make her way to the counter of the coffee bar. The ferocious ambush predator waited for her prey; a completely unsuspecting fresh mug of coffee was placed on the counter to be picked up by its rightful owner. Just moments after it left the hands of the worker it had vanished from sight, leaving the overworked employee to search for it for only seconds before resigning to having to pour another to keep from falling behind.

With the warmth of the invisible mug cradled in her paws, she turned her attention to the more legitimate customers going about their mornings. Had she really been too groggy to notice another artist at work? A slow sip of bitter warmth brought Aya more to her senses.

It seemed like she had missed much of the actual painting... or she would have thought so, if more painting had actually happened before the time was cut short. The last glance at the canvas she got as it was plucked from the pretty human's grasps left her even more curious. Unfinished works could be a glimpse into the mind of an artist more than finished ones at times.

As the dejected artist settled into the corner table Aya's eyes and thoughts wandered back towards the counter.

Laid out upon a small plate were two stacked squares of sponge cake with bright red strawberries and freshly whipped cream sandwiched between them. A crown of berries decorated the top of the slice of pastry.

Once more as the woman behind the counter's bleary eyes left the plate for just a moment too long, it too disappeared along with a fork and napkin. Aya found herself a place to lean against a wall, munching away at her ill-begotten breakfast as a scene unfolded before her.

Pikasso had always found it interesting what other people thought they could get away with when they thought people weren't watching. It was the same sort of principle that the tiny panda herself often operated under, but the audacity to do so without the ability to disappear completely seemed unthinkable at this point.

The altercation that unfolded before her eyes was hard to track from the short distance away. There seemed to be a bump, then a discovery, a scream, and...

Pikasso's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as the outed thief flew past her, the short mink's clear fur swayed by the force of the kick. It was a wonder the man had so narrowly missed her invisible form. She froze up for a few moments, then swallowed her mouthful of cake.

Lucky break.

Putting a bit more distance between herself and the lesser mink artist, Aya found herself a seat in a booth across from a man whose own coffee seemed to be failing him as he sat slumped with his head in his arms on the cool surface of the table. Her fluffy right ear twitched as it picked up the faint sound of a snore.

From her cozy new vantage point the nosy mink finished off her breakfast with her eyes trained on the other patrons.

A curious spectral spectator just sinking back into old habits.

{1,131/1,131}
{Sabian ~ Emmy ~ Subarashi ~ Alexi ~ Pikasso}

Mon Jul 25, 2022 8:22 am

The engine screamed as Volo forced his smoke into every inch of the machine, what were once arms were now a constant billowing stream of gray fumes that manually turned every gear. "C'mon.....C'm....onnnnn...." Volo grunted as the ship steadily descended downwards.

With every member of the crew not named Karl doing their part to keep from crashing into a fiery doom. Even little Susu, who desperately tried to help Volo with the engine.

"Shit..." He grunted, "It's... not.... working...." Struggling as he continued to try to outmuscle the machinery.

Then a lightbulb struck.

Volo rushed out of the engine room, causing the vessel to suffer a violent jerk when he released his grip on the engine. Descending fast than it ever had, Volo raced towards the top deck. For a split second, his eyes trained on the deflating balloon and the motionless propellers. "Shit. Shit. Shit." He grunted as he hopped over the railing to what any normal person would assume was his doom.

But Volo was no normal person, he jetted through the sky at high speeds, taking the time to spell 'RWP' in the sky before placing himself at the bottom of the vessel.

"Here goes nothing!" With all his might, Volo pushed and pushed. Increasing his output of smoke into a large funnel behind him, desperately trying to change Emilia's course and keep her in the air if just a second longer to prevent a crash that would no doubt take out them and anyone else.

No such luck.

He looked down at the rocky coast and the jagged banks along the shoreline. Even if water was softer than the ground the rocks were not, something had to be done to keep them all from dying in a inglorious blaze. After all, if he was gonna die he would at least like to die a man's death. Not burnt to a crisp from an accidental blimp crash.

Then it hit him.

With only seconds remaining the pi(lot)rate darted ahead of the ship and braced for the impact. Expanding himself into a giant cloud of smoke to catch the crashing ship. Softening her landing, he managed to minimize the damage to Emilia on impact at the cost of being driven into the murky depths of Dexter Eyeland’s coastal waters.

Volo’s body returned to its human form as he sank beneath the waves. Well, I can think of worse ways to go I guess. Snickering as he thought of Bill, Karl, and Susu. He hoped that Bill would take Susu and care for him, they seemed to be fond of one another. He thought of Karl and how he hoped the bartender and all his fancy liquors were safe, knowing full way the man's thoughts towards flying in the first place.

A smile formed on his face as the last of his air returned tot he surface in the form of bubbles. I guess that's a rap then....

Susu’s eyes went wide as he scrambled to find his friend, darting across the deck and hopping onto the railing. His eyes locked onto Volo’s teal hair and large smile disappearing into the ocean’s abyss.

Without hesitation the rodent dove into the water and swam deeper and deeper. Far deeper than any other squirrel had ever done. This was his time to repay Volo for all that he had done. Repay him for saving him from the slaver that stole the flying rodent from his home.

Closer and closer, Volo was finally in reach. Susu grabbed his coat and turned upwards. Using his tail as a propeller, he desperately tried to drag the much larger man back to the surface.

Now, with no luck and no air, time was running out for the pair.

0700 Hours,

623/1,759/10,000

Mon Jul 25, 2022 1:28 pm

6:30 AM

Storage room no.1, Emilia's Interior

Still somewhere in the skies over The Jolly Keys

It is moments like these that can stir up a variety of emotions in oneself. It has happened a lot within these past few months. Times where Karl has expressed his dislike to the whole flying shenanigan of this ship. But the man has been nothing but ignored, some moments sounding to him like he has been ridiculed for that said dislike...

But that time was here. Fear, anger, hate... Karl felt all of these happening at that very same moment... And all of those emotions that he was feeling were probably leading him to the last part of this emotional story... Suffering. But not emotionally, more like physically.

Somewhere deep within, the man also had an odd sense of righteousness. He knew flying was a bad idea! He always knew it! But no one listened. Take that the flying crew!

Outside of his thoughts, however, the man was holding tight onto the pillar while the ship turned blimp was shaking and moving uncontrollably straight down towards the ground, or sea, whichever was awaiting them. And in the very room, he was in, thanks to this uncontrollable movement of the blimp, the boxes were dancing happily, ready to wreak havoc in the room.

And havoc they sure wreaked. The open crates had flipped over, having broken multiple glass bottles, leaving at least half of them intact, for now.

[plyr=pirt]"Am I really on my way back to zero? I'll... Grr, cash in from Volo."[/plyr]

Karl could feel the shaking ease up, perhaps it was all under control? Unlikely as he could still see the bottles that were intact roll around the sticky booze-covered floor. He loosened his grip and took small and careful steps away from the pillar.

[plyr=pirt]"VOLO, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING... Ngh!"[/plyr]

Not the best idea to shout while one is experiencing a massive hangover from the last night. The already unstable setting of the ship did not make it any easier for the man to walk around. With careful steps, the man headed out from the small storage room to see what was happening up on the deck.

Karl had heard a shout, a call for help, for someone to go and take the wheel. He had every intention to go up on the deck and see what he could do to help out but given his situation, his trip there did not fare as fast or good as he had hoped to.

The momentary stability of the falling ship was, however, maintained for a good few moments. It did not take too long for it to once more become very unstable, in fact, it even leaned way too forward for Karl's taste. He slammed his right hand against the wall to support his slow walk.

There is a saying that all it takes is one unfortunate event to ruin one's day even further, and that day was here. Out of the storage room rolled an intact bottle of the rum, conveniently under just stepping Karl's foot, causing a slipping reaction which leads Karl to roll down the already tilted forward ship, like a bowling ball.

[plyr=pirt]"Aaaaaaaaaaah!"[/plyr]

Thud. Most unfortunate events have a sad ending, some sadder. This one's end was not the worst that could have happened. Karl's head had happened to simply hit the corner of one of the doorways of the room in the said ship, causing the man to gain a bleeding cut on his face, and knock him out cold, leaving him down on the ground where ever the roll takes him.

Knocked out cold, on the ground, the man was unconsciously 'waiting' for the inevitable crash land on the rocky ocean shore. May whatever entity that watches over him have mercy on his poor soul for trusting his life in the hands of these people!

~7:00 AM, Emilia crash lands on the rocky ocean shore, some ways away from Port Teardrop

[668/2227/10 000]

Group:

Mon Jul 25, 2022 11:40 pm

Draconia didn't have time to fuck around. She needed to gather up all the criminal scum on this island, tie them together and then toss their lazy unjust asses into the infinite depths below. She was still reeling from the fact that she had lost her rank over a misunderstanding… and the destruction that she had caused in the pursuit of her ex-boyfriend had been minimal at best. But what could she do? He was affiliated with that whore Captain Nectarine.

She’d chase that big tittied bitch to the end of the earth if needed and her hatred for that woman was undefeated by any other emotion that she had succumbed to thus far.

She had no care in the world for those individuals. Her justice wouldn't allow her to feel sympathy for those who walked the path of Captain Nectarine. This seemed like just the place that bitch would have sailed too as well. So maybe, just maybe, she'd get her chance at revenge.

Yet she had to prove that she could put her own personal issues aside for the greater mission at hand. It was one of many reasons that she had lost her rank of Commodore.

Though she might not have been all that worthy of the rank in the eyes of some of her contemporaries, since she wasn’t exactly the strongest person around. Though this was bullshit really. Even if she wasn't among the stronger members of such a bracket, its not that the Marines soley valued actual destructive power in the Marines anyway. Some of those Rear Admirals looked like push overs in her mind. She didn't allow her thoughts to settle too far off course though. She was here to attend a wedding.

While this wedding nothing more than a ruse, she didn't want to show up to the party underdressed. She wore an exquisite jet black bodycon dress that stopped halfway down he thighs, accenting her womanly features far more than they usually would be. A leather belt around her waist that had a unique buckle the shape of a turtle shell. Her horns where covered by her hair, which she wore in an up-do style, making her look as though she had a beehive hair-style. She wore shades across her face that were gold in color, though the lenses were black. Due to her familiarity with wearing her marine jacket, she wore a jet black jacket over her shoulders that made her look like a mafia don's wife.

All of her battle equipment found itself within a steamer trunk, which was currently carried by a not-as-well dressed marine who sighed heavily after being roped into Draconia's madness. He did his best to drag the trunk along with him, but by doing so he looked to be her servant. Which he was in a way regardless.

Such antics didn't last long however, as the massively nine foot tall woman found herself looking over towards the warehouse in which she was meant to meet up with the scattered remnants of the Marines. Her eyes glazed over momentarily as she noticed how shabby the location happened to be. Disgusted that she had to set foot in such a dilapidated building while wearing such fancy clothes, she sucked up her dismay and approached.

The moment that she got into view of the building proper, she merely made eye contact with the commander outside the door. He didn't bother asking her for identification. Despite her disguise, most Marines were aware of who she was... especially in the blues. But she still gave the passcode… which her subordinate translated for her before she was allowed into the building proper.

She found a nice spot to get ready for the upcoming events, she addressed a vague portion of the room, speaking as though she still held onto her Commodore rank. Perhaps out of habit, but she was still a Captain, so she did have some authority still.

"Arigh' ye wee babs r 'ere n' nao we git de par't bump'n. Lis'n te me n' coz i'm da biggun roun' 'ere.(So it looks like we are al' here. we'll get our debriefing and then head out. I am given operational command of this squad, pleasure to meet you all.)" It would be at this time that she'd gaze over towards Yugo, speaking to him directly. "Com’ere ya’ pooz’ boi.(You’re with me.)"

{ 731 | 731 | 5000 }

sucré @ gs

Tue Jul 26, 2022 12:34 pm

Yugo's tabi boots squeaked lightly as the shinobi turned marine walked with a bunch of other freshmen around the place. This was his first big thing ever since he had met Yumiko and the other Knights. He went through some kind of training, that is to say he would at least know how to control his peculiar powers, but training doesn't really prepare you for this kind of field work. At the very least he had experience with stealth and remaining unseen, perhaps he was amongst the best around there to hold his cover up and not have the gig up. The only thing that it took him some concentration was actually not being TOO good. After years of training, his steps would naturally produce no sound, he wore tabi specifically for the added mobility allowing him to be lighter on his legs yet here he was supposed to be completely unassuming and well...normal. An average joe in a place full of pirates.

He just hoped he wouldn't get himself killed working for people he barely knew, all for an eventual chance to visit back home on Hoshima and tell his family he was okay.

Coming up to the werehouse, Yugo spoke the magic words: "Kindness is the mother of all wisdom." And was let in. He stood mostly in the back as the briefing and all the rest of the logistics were taken care of. If anything, outside outlandish clothing and weird makeup, this was his best shot to at least glimpse a little of the other big people in the Navy. The real people, the ones that mattered. No one would give a damn if a grunt like him would kick the bucket, but he was sure that the big ones had some contingencies in place if the whole undercover hush hush plan was going awry. It's only natural though. Influence is the only true currency that moves the world, money and powers are just the coin it's traded in. That he knew well.

It seemed though that despite him trying to stand out, the Mercury Logia hadn't been completely succesful. A...rather voloptuous woman with horns was yapping something in a barely understandable common language, given her thick accent. From the way she moved around like the place was hers he would have to guess she was one of the officials. She motioned at him while picking people from the crowd. Yugo blinked and pointed at himself. "You want me?" He mumbled. He would walk over in any case, lest he incur in the wrath of the woman there. "Gomen...I'm...having trouble understanding you."

It occured to him that trying to reason with someone he didn't understand as well as someone who was higher in the ladder was pretty useless. The young Mercury Shinobi simply opted to just shut up and do as he was told. At this point it was the only thing he could realistically do anyway.

WC: 490 /10.000

Mon Aug 01, 2022 5:17 pm

April 1, 1829, ~8:00 A.M.

Dock Warehouse No. 28, Port Teardrop

A scarred tree of a man stood vigil outside a plain building in a suit two sizes too small for his frame. The structure he guarded had no more decorations than a simple wreath adorning its double doors.

The tree glowered down at every stranger who walked by. The guard's dimensions and scowl deterred most nosy onlookers from wondering why individuals in suits were entering a random warehouse.

Most, but not all.

A gang of four hoodlums approached the usher with their chins turned up, their hands in their pockets, and their legs bowed wide. Their clothes were ragged, and they all carried batons on their hips. [npc=pirt]"Oi, oi, oi, oi. I don't remember hearin' anythin' about a party goin' on 'ere,"[/npc] said a tattooed stick with a pompadour as he stood on his toes less than an inch away from the usher, trying and failing to meet him at eye level.

[npc=navy]"This is a private affair. Move along,"[/npc] said the usher. He seemed undisturbed by the thin gangster waving around his ridiculous hairdo.

The ruffian spat a loogie and looked back at his smirking friends before stretching himself taller until his pompadour bent against the usher's forehead.

[npc=pirt]"This 'ere's Billy Earful's turf. There ain't no private affairs 'ere he don't know 'bout. If he finds out you're havin' some celebration at the docks without payin' yer dues, he ain't gonna be 'appy,"[/npc] claimed the hoodlum.

[npc=navy]"If your boss has a problem with our celebration, why don't you let him come tell us himself."[/npc] A commanding voice spoke. A seven-foot-tall man with flowing raven blue hair and matching eyes lumbered over the four thugs' backs with two katanas at his side and a company of about fifteen armed men behind him.

The thug's voice stuck to his throat, and only a meek chirp came out when he tried to retort. The domineering man raised an arm to his side as if showing them the way out. The goons wasted no time in scurrying away like wounded rats.

The usher smiled and cracked the door open for the company. [npc=navy]"Glad you could make it in time, sir,"[/npc] he said as the soldiers entered one after another. No efforts were made to ornament the inside of the warehouse. It would've been a waste.

Those already inside cleared the way for the new arrivals with hushed murmurs. The blue-haired giant approached a dapper gentleman wearing a wedding-white suit with a long scarf hanging on his shoulders and a fedora resting on his pony-tailed head.

[npc=cpol]"Why the hell are you all dressed like you're going to the farmer's market, Nottingham?"[/npc] The fashionable man asked his inconvenient colleague.

Rear Admiral Bradley Nottingham soaked in his surroundings. Most attendees wore modest but event-appropriate suits, whereas his men's wardrobe was rugged and patchy.

He shrugged.

[npc=navy]"Seems to me like the rest of you are the ones dressed out of place, Fowl. We're wearing threads that don't make us stand out like sore thumbs in these parts. Can you really say the same?"[/npc] Bradley asked.

[npc=cpol]"Just because I'm going to be digging through trash doesn't mean I have to wear it too,"[/npc] Chief Seamus Fowl replied as he rolled his eyes.

Bradley grinned. [npc=navy]"Try not to complain when your suit gets filthy."[/npc]

Seamus relented when he realized their exchange had intrigued their subordinates. [npc=cpol]"Fine, never mind the disguises. We're missing a few stragglers still, but we're already past our rendezvous time."[/npc]

The chief adjusted his overcoat, tightened his tie, and whistled sharply. The rear admiral leaned against a beam a few feet away, arms folded.

The attendees all lined up in a disciplined assembly before Seamus began. [npc=cpol]"Listen up, everyone. We realize that most of you have no idea what the mission today is. I--"[/npc] He paused as a group of marines walked in late to the meeting. A few glares made them well aware of the annoyance.

Seamus cleared his throat and continued. [npc=cpol]"As I was saying, I will now provide you with our mission's details. Less than two weeks ago, the NRA bombed the World Government embassy in Briss. As some of you may know, I was present at the time and barely managed to survive."[/npc] Bradley groaned under his breath.

[npc=cpol]"We learned that one of the shichibukai may be supplying the NRA with essential materials for their signature explosives. We have traced the origin of said materials to The Jolly Keys. We aim to pinpoint the factories where it is produced and shut them down. It is imperative that we identify and arrest the criminals in charge. This includes the shichibukai who may be leading this operation. As soon as we find evidence against them, their immunity will be revoked, and we have orders to engage should they happen to be around."[/npc]

The troops started to whisper among themselves anxiously. Bradley peeled himself from his backrest and approached their formation. He walked along its edge with his hands behind him. [npc=navy]"It should go without saying that the shichibukai are extremely dangerous. If you encounter one here, your first priority should be to report it to Chief Fowl and me. Engaging a shichibukai without our entire force should be done only as a last resort."[/npc]

[npc=cpol]"That being said, we have no assurance that we will find the shichibukai here,"[/npc] Seamus added. [npc=cpol]"Most, if not all, tend to stick to the Grand Line. But, in the name of the World Government, we will scour every document, interrogate every criminal, and turn every rock upside down to uncover their identity."[/npc]

[npc=navy]"We will teach this dirtbag pirate that he can't keep operating with impunity. Justice has come knocking on his back door. And justice will prevail today,"[/npc] Bradley promised.

[npc=cpol]"Stealth is paramount during this mission. Any reports you make should avoid direct references to our mission targets and goals. I'm aware that we have some recognizable faces and ability users. I demand that you use your abilities discreetly or not at all. We must not alert the criminals in charge of these islands without first locating our target. Once we have done so, we will begin our raid in full."[/npc]

[npc=navy]"Marines will be splitting into teams under the commands of the following officers: Myself, Captain Wyre, Captain Okirama, Captain Sanguis, and Lieutenant Commander Virtanen. Each of us will be leading a squad of ten marines. Our limited resources will allow for only two transponder snails per squad."[/npc] A CP2 agent handed transponder snails to each squad leader and their designated second-in-command.

[npc=navy]"There should be ferries frequenting between here and La Crima. The ride should be less than an hour. Captains Okirama and Sanguis. Your squads will be taking separate ferries to La Crima. You'll be studying the shipping yards there. Report if and as soon as you find information pertaining to our mission. Avoid confronting any other criminal activities. Many of you have strong moral codes, which I value greatly. But, the town is riddled with crooks. Catching them all is not our concern today,"[/npc] Rear Admiral Nottingham said somberly.

He then ordered Wyre and Virtanen to investigate the yards in Port Teardrop. Meanwhile, Chief Fowl evenly split fifteen CP2 agents between himself, Agent Broad, and Agent Borrows. Their instructions were to scrutinize known businesses for information.

The squads trickled out one after the other to avoid attracting unwanted eyes and departed for their targets.

Somewhere in La Crima...

A group of ten to fifteen congregated around a short baldy and a fish-man with a severe underbite.

The baldy palmed his head as he spoke. Two symmetrical columns of blemishes marked his forehead. [npc=revo]"Where the hell is Sabian? I don't know if we can trust the pirates we're about to meet. It would be nice to have his ability as our backup."[/npc]

The fish-man yawned. [npc=revo]"Heez prolly out drowin' zum gurlies, pretennin' ta be a hero or zumdin'."[/npc]

The baldy nodded. [npc=revo]"For once, you hit the nail on the head. If there are two things he loves, they are painting and being a hero. Let's just hope he hasn't gotten into trouble already."[/npc]

The shiny cueball turned to his minions. [npc=revo]"I want you all to find Sabian and the others. Tell them to meet us at the Tackling Whale by 10:30. Tell Sabian there's an art gallery there. That should convince him to hurry along."[/npc]

The minions saluted their commanders and dispersed.

[npc=revo]"Izzder reelly an' art gary wer weer goin', Godli-zan?"[/npc] The fish-man asked.

Gotli smirked and snorted. [npc=revo]"Of course not, you fool. Does this shithole of a town really look like a place where you'd find an art gallery? You'll sooner find a museum of human organs."[/npc]

They both agreed that the latter scenario was far more likely in La Crima and carried on their way to the Tackling Whale.

April 1, 1829, ~10:15 A.M.

At the La Crima port...

[npc=pirt]"Be careful wif dat, blockhead!"[/npc] Yelled a square-shaped sailor carrying a crate down a mossy dock. He shifted the weight on his shoulder and hurried behind a slimmer, younger fellow. [npc=pirt]"If ya drops da goods, ya could blow us all da way to da Grand Line,"[/npc] he added.

The brown from the youngster's freckled face drained. [npc=pirt]"Wait, what? This stuff is explosive?! That's not what I signed up for!"[/npc]

The older man supported the youngster's barrel with a gentle hand. [npc=pirt]"Hah! Kids dese days is all da same. If ya really finks yer gonna git a job in dis town dat ain't likely ta take an arm an' a leg, ya got anoder fing comin'."[/npc] He nudged his junior to keep walking. The boy complied hesitantly.

[npc=pirt]"What're we doing with this stuff anyway? The factories in Carbuncle have been pumping out more and more of it lately from what I can tell,"[/npc] the young dockworker asked with an unhealthy curiosity.

The bigger man snorted and grumbled. [npc=pirt]"Dey dun tell us nuffin'. We's jus' suppose to shut our pie holes an' do da jobs. But, rumours is, dey's pushin' dis gunk to some rebels - buncha upjump'd, no-good punks."[/npc]

A nearby group of disguised marines perked their ears to this exchange. A report was sure to come.

March 27, 1829

Somewhere in the South Blue...

A flame slowly burned from one corner of a note to the other. The note read as follows until it turned to ash.

[npc=cpol]Agent Filth. The contents of this note are for your eyes only. As you are currently within range of a mission area, you are instructed to redirect yourself to the location by any means necessary and assist the agent there. Rendezvous with Agent Collins at the "Soiled Trousers" saloon in La Crima of the Jolly Keys. Your meeting time is on April 1st, exactly at noon. Your codeword is "Stainless." Agent Collins will be your supervisor and provide you with further instructions.[/npc]

August 1823

On an abandoned island half-ablaze, half-frozen...

A tall man with shaggy silver hair strolled through a narrow, snow-filled corridor. A thick layer of frost shrouded the metal walls around him. But, the man knew there was nothing pretty to admire behind the ice. Frigid winds whistled through the holes in the ceiling and brought the melancholy of a thousand wailing women. But, the explorer seemed undisturbed. Perhaps he knew the wind was playing him for a fool. Or maybe he just didn't care.

A glass bubble shielded him from the shards of snow raised by the coiling wind. As he moved forward, so did his shield, always keeping him at its center. Several shafts of sunlight weakened by dense arctic clouds surged through the broken roof to light up his path. He hunted for his elusive swan in one demolished laboratory after another. Not a single living soul was around to ask him why.

The one-man expedition continued for hours that blurred into days. But, the wanderer's quest in the frozen ruins was not fruitless. A crescent moon and a matching grin lit up his face as he held a tattered journal. Its leather seams were worn to oblivion, and its pages seemed ready to scatter with one careless turn. The cover was too ragged to make out anything except two bold letters—an abbreviation.

The letters read "CC".

Notes:

Tue Aug 02, 2022 3:05 pm

Amadeus leaned quietly against the wall, his eyes closed as he patiently waited. Their first stop since docking in this place was to find the nearest tavern. Getting information was important, especially when it came to hunting down the one they were after. The island was crawling with criminal scum, so it would be easy for an organ harvester to hide.

Truth be told, a bounty hunter would have an absolute field day in a place like this. So many potential bounties. But simply capturing everyone would draw the wrong kind of attention, the sort that made sure you didn't last long. Thankfully, Amadeus was focused on this one particular target. He could worry about others later.

Now the big challenge was to gather the info they were after. Eloise had warned Amadeus that a man looking like himself could potentially draw the wrong sort of attention if he went around asking questions. That was why she volunteered to ask herself. Amadeus wasn't exactly happy with this plan. A pretty little thing like her, all alone in a hive like that. Well, let's just say people would get some very bad ideas. But she insisted. It wasn't like she was unarmed after all.

And so Amadeus waited outside, keeping an ear out for any sounds of potential trouble. So far, nothing had happened, but the cyborg was feeling particularly tense. Any minute now he would need to run in and deck someone to save Eloisr.

Surprisingly, that didn't actually happen as the doors opened, and Eloise stepped out with a cheerful smile. "OK, I got what I was looking for." Amadeus was quite relieved that everything turned out fine, though he did a good job of hiding it. "Well?" Eloise smiled to her cyborg companion, "We're looking for a place called Bell's Gears and Grease. They deal in all sorts of machinery, and possibly cyborgs like yourself."

Amadeus blinked in confusion before he realized what she was hinting at. He sighed. "Eloise, we're supposed to be looking for-" "I know," she cut him off, "But we need to get supplies. I know you. You'll come out of this all banged up and I need the tech to repair you. And besides, if we can get you upgrades, it would make you even more prepared for the task. We want this to go as smoothly as possible, right?"

He had to admit, she had a point. His inability to feel pain caused him to fight more recklessly than most people. And she was really putting herself out by constantly patching him up. He gave a small sigh of resignation. "Very well. Lead the way." Eloise gave a small smile of triumph as she started walking on ahead. "Right this way."

Post Word Count: 459
Total Word Count: 1,022

Wed Aug 03, 2022 2:31 am

Port Teardrop

“All things considered that could have gone much worse.” Moreau nervously tugged at his whiskers as he spoke. The gentleman was relieved that the late Marines had not been harshly disciplined.

As the party headed towards the Port Teardrop docks to catch their ferry they couldn’t help but overhear the smugglers shouting to one another.

“You really got no interest in trying to get in on the La Crima gig?” The stylish bootlegger called down to his stronger compatriot, his sunglasses gleaming beneath the morning sun.

Moreau raised his fingers to his mouth and subtly held his arm in front of his comrades, bidding that they listen rather than act on the emerging lead. The two pirates were obviously sick of each other, their frustrations were likely coming to a boiling point.

“I’ll tell ya as many times as it takes to get it through your thick fuckin’ skull Jerry!” The stout man threw a trunk of cargo up onto the dock. “I got a bad feeling about whatever’s goin’ on over there.”

Moreau produced a thermos from his messenger bag alongside a set of tiny teacups and plates. The butler poured a cup of Sencha for any amongst the group who wanted one. Meanwhile the smugglers prattled furiously amongst one another until one last exchange caught the Marine’s ears.

“They set you up real good Tony. I mean these guys are really rollin’ in it.” Jerry shot an exasperated look down towards his stubborn compatriot.

“Where do you think the money’s coming from?” The man muttered up, averting his gaze.

“Can you stop being so damn cryptic, what do you mean man?” The younger and more naive smuggler tensed his hands against his head as he paced circles along the dock.

“These ain’t the same pirates throwing their gold around in the keys. A lot more coin and berri has been flowing through these parts, more than I’ve seen in my lifetime.” The elder bootlegger spoke back to his apprentice tensely. “Seems like a ticking timebomb if you ask me. Forces beyond our control.”

Jerry wasn’t going to let the ramblings of some old geezer quash his dreams of wealth and power. In his pacing and fuming the scraggly man set eyes on the distant party of marines, taking particular issue with the monocle wearing Moreau.

“What do you think fancylad?” The wiry rabscallion gestured towards one of the meeker members of the undercover Marines. “Maybe if I start workin’ out on La Crima’s docks I can afford one of them things.” The man gestured towards Moreau’s monocle, getting up into the gent’s face; the man reeked with an acrid alcoholic scent.

Despite his discomfort Moreau saw an opportunity to exploit this avaricious drunkard. “What a coincidence! We were actually waiting to board a ferry to La Crima, I assume you’ve been before? Perhaps you could show us around?” The gentleman shot an eyebrow back towards Stone, gauging what his goliath Captain thought of his scheme.

Moreau quickly realized his rudeness in not responding to the smuggler’s question before speaking back to him. “I’ve only heard good things about La Crima!” The gentleman lied through his teeth. “Plenty of money to be made! One of my cousins works over in that shipping yard, he just bought a nice little chunk of land down by the beach.”

It wasn’t often that the gentleman lied, but he barely skipped a beat in his deception, becoming chummy with the pirate in no time. As the group awaited their ferry the chatter between Moreau and his new “buddy” proved a frequent interruption; the smuggler’s former mentor glowered towards the group.

Meanwhile in La Crima…

Within the recesses of the warehouse the underling lieutenant jabbered feverishly into his transponder snail. “Listen we’re not gettin’ it outta here tonight. I don’t know what to tell ya, a bunch of our guys have been droppin’ like flies; we’re gonna need more manpower if you want to keep this pace up.”

The distant sounds of yelling through a phone could be heard by men passing by their overseer’s room.

“I’ll see if I can find more guys. We might be able to get it out by tomorrow. I don’t know how this is gonna go man, I’ll try to make it work.”

“Ko-Cha” The man hung up his transponder snail, the madly grinning critter’s expression fell inert. “Grinning” Reno Grande, an underboss responsible for the oversight of one of the operation’s shipping yards, let out a sigh of exhaustion.

From the depths of the warehouse two men packed the operation’s goods into stable containment shipping crates.

“Ugh this stuff gives me the creeps.” One of the men felt perturbed by the capabilities of the cargo he was packing.

“We don’t have to worry about it though man!” The new hire responded excitedly. “You think the Keys are ever gonna be a target for these people? We’ve got it made!”

“Ugh maybe you’re right, I’m probably just paranoid.”

Perhaps the man’s intuition would have served him well had he acted on it. If nothing else, justice was headed for the shipping yards of La Crima, and machinations far beyond his comprehension were beginning to fall into place.

Spoiler:

[Abandoned] A Fool's Errand