Re: [World Event] A Fool's Errand

Wed Mar 27, 2024 11:35 am

From a distance away, Hyde simply could NOT wipe the grin from his face as he watched the meeting through the eyes of his painted seagull, watching the meeting between the revolutionaries, all the way from a simple bench a few blocks down. Passersby couldn't help but glance sideways at the man who seemed to be smiling so brightly for seemingly no reason. Little did they knew of the treasure trove of information that he had stumbled onto. He had caught wind of the bombing in Briss, and like many others, had bought into the story it was the revolutionaries. After all, why believe otherwise? Not that it mattered to him either way.

But the fact that it was instead a frame job, and using the same sorts of explosives. Now THAT was juicy. Hyde couldn't stop himself from giggling. Just where would this mystery end up? At the same time, he found his attention firmly drawn to the arms dealer. Nesbitt Langhorne. Now that was a man Hyde can relate to. Someone who knew what they were doing. Someone who had control over their life. The revolutionaries seemed almost a bit rag-tag be comparison, constantly bickering. He wondered just how they had managed to be such a thorn in the government's side. But enough about them. This mystery was just screaming to be investigated!

And then, like all good things, the marines just had to come along and ruin it. Hyde's expression fell as he heard the name Nottingham get mentioned. While Hyde wasn't too up to date on the notables amongst the marines (something he felt he really should fix in the future), everybody's reaction to the name told him everything he needed to know. Some big shot marines were showing up, and Le Crima was about to turn into a warzone. And just when he thought he had managed to avoid those damn bastard! Hyde's first instinct was to cut and run. But dammit, this was too enticing to ignore.

Carbuncle. That was where they were heading. And that was where Hyde would be following. The big problem with this situation was that, well, it required going to docks, where many undercover marines were going to be gathering. Hyde sighed as he got to his feet. He had managed to escape Las Camp while they were actively searching for him, surely he would be able to sneak onto a boat while avoiding the marines. He had found himself getting quite skilled at the whole sneaking thing, despite his flashy demeanor saying otherwise.

And he may just have the ticket for it too. Drawing his attention away from the bickering marines, Hyde's bird would try to keep an eye on Nesbitt. Surely the man had a way to get onto Carbuncle, one that avoided the attention of the marines. Getting onto the island that way would be his best bet. Besides, who knew what other juicy pieces of info this munitions man had on him? Tucking his hands into his pockets, Hyde started to stroll back the way he came, towards the docks. He was trying to remain casual now, but who knows what would happen once he reached the docks.

-----$@$-----

And evidently, it was more than Hyde had been expecting. Sure, he had expected marines, and from what he had heard from Nesbitt, there would be some fighting, but he certainly hadn't expected the presence of a myth zoan! That was what she had to be, with what she was pulling off in her beastly form. Was that Nottingham? No, couldn't be. He had heard Nottingham was a man, right? Then again, in this crazy world they lived in, who the heck knew?

Hyde remained hidden behind some shipping containers, peeking out carefully. This was bad. From what he gathered, zoans tended to be pretty good at the whole tracking thing, what with their animal senses and all, and no doubt a myth zoan was an even bigger threat. Sure, she was bloody and beaten up, but wounded animals tended to be excessively dangerous. Her resolve to keep on fighting further cemented this. Hyde would have to be extremely careful if he was to get through this in one piece.

From his hiding place, he tried to see through his false seagull as to where Nesbitt had gone to. The man had to have a way to Carbuncle somewhere, and if it helped him avoid the bloody weasel over there, even better!

Post Word Count: 745
Total Word Count: 2,644

Fri Mar 29, 2024 4:54 am

Whether there were two Volos or not, did not matter to Karl. His nerves were shot. His fill of adventure was achieved already a while ago. A calming drink in his hand only did the trick for so long... But his cravings became stronger.

He craved... For a cigarette.

Like any paper product, water was its natural enemy... And cardboard package of cigarettes was its latest casualty. The one thing that a man needs to survive in this cruel world is also the one thing that is causing him immense pain. It was a cruel thing to take away a man's 'painkiller'.

Naturally, he could have asked Volo for one... But what kind of picture would that paint of him? Stooping to such height, to ask a filthy pirate captain who was supposed to steer them away from danger?! Perhaps if it had been another day then he would have asked... Karl did not hate 'his captain'... But he was one break point away from getting rosed up with a glass bottle.

But a golden opportunity always comes to those who wait patiently.

Reckless had Volo been leaving the cigarette dangling off of his lips, only for it to slowly glide down onto the ground. Karl's pupils widened as he noticed the cigarette... [plyr=pirt]"A... A golden... Opportunity."[/plyr] The hair on the back of his head rose a bit, and his arms were covered with goosebumps... A cold shiver went through his spine.

This may be the savior of the day. He slowly dropped down to his knees, placed the bottle and glass away, and crawled his way toward the fallen cigarette. [plyr=pirt]"Yes... Yes!"[/plyr] he slid the cigarette by his nostrils to take in the raw scent of tobacco.

[plyr=pirt]"Fire... Fire!"[/plyr]

He placed the filter end of the cigarette between his lips and shoved the hand into his pocket. Out of it, he pulled an engraved lighter of his.

Tst.... Tst.... Tst.... Tststststststststst...... Karl rolled the roughened metal wheel under his thumb, letting its friction with flint cause sparks... But no flame. [plyr=pirt]"Nonononono not now!"[/plyr]

Seems like cardboard was not the only one that had been damaged by water. Karl's lucky lighter had joined its ranks. The wick was toast...

[plyr=pirt]"Flame... Fire... I need it."[/plyr] With his head spinning on its neck, he looked for a flame. Will fate smile upon him once more and grant the warm burning touch of fire to light up the poisonous substance within the cigarette?

[410/3434]

Group:

Sun Mar 31, 2024 9:39 pm

Stone stared down at the transponder snail as it relayed Rear Admiral Nottingham’s voice and orders. Reacting to the praise that his commanding officer gave him, Stone smiled, his sense of justice reigniting itself with newfound vigor he had not felt since the Kodiak first enlisted all those months ago back in the North Blue.

Speaking clearly and with conviction, Stone acknowledged the orders given to him. “Leave it to me, sir! I shall procure a suitable vessel for the journey in no time!”

[npc=navy]“Kaccha”[/npc]

Looking up from the now-motionless snail, Stone was met with a noise that could only be called music on technicality. Though the “song” sounded like a Meito being dragged across a seastone hull, Moreau left the marine captain with no choice but to leave his ears uncovered.

“Even if our friends aren’t in trouble, I want whoever’s playing that god-awful arrested! Let’s head over before anyone even thinks of calling for an encore.”

Before heading to the shipyard proper, Stone doled out orders to the rest of his men.

“If your name isn’t Stone or Moreau you’re going ship hunting, find something nimble and sturdy. Once the ship is secured, send someone to collect myself and Moreau.”

Among the dull, rusted metallic containers that littered the shipyard, a man covered in emerald jewelry sauntered past his weary workers. Dropping a box to the ground at the site of their boss, a hushed message was delivered to the cocky capo.

“Who showed up!?”

Barreling into the rowdy shipyard with all the subtlety of a bowling ball, Stone sent what little peons he came across into the air like the pin(head)s they were. Just as the final ruffian was sent careening into the distance, an irritated voice growled out from the bear-man’s blindspot.

“Watch it!”

Emerging from the shadow of a dented shipping container, frog-like limbs stepped out one at a time. The overly tacky designer coupled with the flashy jewelry told Stone all he needed to know. Shirowani would quit the Marines and become a Yonkou before this guy sat down to talk.

“You ever think this is more trouble than it’s worth?” The gangster swiped a fly out of the air before continuing, “Suppose it doesn't matter what you think regardless! If what my boys say is true, you guys ran out of good options the second you started poking around where you weren’t supposed to. No blues leave Reno Grande’s turf without paying for it! Kerorororo!”

Over the discordant sounds of someone's odd attempt at music, the Marine Captain could still perfectly hear the voice behind him. Turning around, Stone stared down the blue frog-man. “If I worried about getting myself into trouble I wouldn’t be able to call myself a Marine!”

Stone pointed his axe at the frog-man for dramatic effect, continuing to answer the criminal. “No good options left? I wasn’t planning on running anyway!”

The frog’s grin grew ever wider with each word that Stone spoke. To the point where the man broke into a loud laughing fit, his long tongue flying haphazardly. “What makes you different from any other blue I’ve fought before? Don’t bother answering, self-righteous fools like you don’t tend to live long enough to give a satisfying answer anyway! Kerororororo!”

Still laughing, Reno swiped his frog-like hands through the air, hitting Stone square in the face. The Marine Captain grit his teeth, even with a healthy dose of adrenaline to soften the blow, the impact still left Stone feeling nauseous. The Kodiak looked up and was met with three Reno’s waiting in anticipation.

“Well, I suppose one of ‘em has to be the real one.”

With white knuckles, Stone gripped his axe and charged one of the Reno’s in an attempt to hit him with a powerful overhead slash. And Stone’s attack would have gone off without a hitch… If he had hit the real Reno that is.

By the time Stone realized that he had picked the wrong target, it was already too late. Laughing, Reno ducked down and swept the Captain’s legs out from under him, causing him to hit the ground with a resounding thud and his axe to go flying into a nearby container.

“Kerorororo! It’s just like I told you bud. You’re not the first, and you’re surely not gonna be the last!”

With a face that only a frog could love, Reno struck downwards. Only to be met with surprise when the marine’s arms blocked the strike. “What are you crazy!? Quit fightin’ already you fool I won!”

With no more words to say to the amphibian, Stone shoved back as hard as he could. Reno flew through the air for a few seconds before he regained his balance and landed on top of a large shipping container. By the time Reno had recovered, Stone too was back on his feet. Though in the marine’s case, it was more like his last leg. Stone slowed his breathing and closed his eyes. The young captain grew larger, dark brown fur spread across his body. The Kodiak's hands and feet became more bear-like as sharp claws grew from his nails. When the transformation was done Stone let out as fierce a roar as he could manage.

Opening his eyes, Stone looked around to see that there were now many more Reno’s than before. If only there was some way to-

Stone sniffed the air and was immediately hit with an overpowering smell. “What is that!? Who would even think to put that much cologne on!?” Stone answered his question upon looking back at the many Reno’s looking down on him. “You know what? That checks out.”

Despite Stone’s revelation, Reno’s arrogant attitude did not waver in the slightest. “Well, I didn’t expect you to be an ability user too. But it’s too little too late, friend.” The frog gangster crouched down before jumping off the shipping containers, with the false Renos following suit. Stone remained motionless and closed his eyes once more, not that his vision would help him anyway. It didn’t take more than a couple of seconds for the Captain to get a lock on where the real Reno was. Once the frog-man was ready to strike he leaped directly towards the Kodiak.

Unlike the previous clashes, this time Stone was ready. Shockingly fast for his size and current state, the Kodiak sidestepped the blurry kick. Reno’s grin faded when he opened his eyes to see a large fur-covered fist instead of Stone’s head.

The punch sent Reno hurtling into the very wooden container that his axe had been embedded in, causing the box to break apart, partially burying Reno and freeing the axe. Stone reverted to his human form and recovered both. It would be irresponsible to just leave Reno after what had just taken place.

Stumbling out of the shipyard, Stone was followed by the Marines who had also raided the area. Half-conscious, Stone’s attention was grabbed by one of the marines he had sent to look for a ship.

[npc=navy]“Captain Okirama! We found a suitable vessel, it’s not too far so just follow me.”[/npc]

Stone, exhausted from what he could only hope wasn’t a concussion, found himself unable to do anything more than nod his head and follow.

Some Minutes Later...

The ship certainly did fit the requirements of sturdy and nimble. The boat was just big enough to fit all of the forces, though Stone could have done without the flame pattern that decorated the hull despite his men’s insistence that it actually made the ship even faster.

Sitting on the dock next to the boat, Stone rested under an umbrella. The undercover marine’s salmon shirt now unbuttoned and resting on his shoulders, while that first blow to the head had rocked Stone quite a bit, it seemed that the constitution of a bear was sufficient enough to keep the Captain going.

Resting his head in his palms, Stone was now able to see what a glaring mistake he had made, “Why the hell did I leave without Moreau…”

Word Count:

RP Group:

Time:

Mon Apr 01, 2024 9:54 pm

"Shishishishishi!" Volo snickered as his ethereal body reformed just long enough to make a quip, "What was that about tearing my goggles oof-...?!"

One that was promptly interrupted by a flurry of fists, each one swifter than the last. Each one whiffing just as bad as the last, prompting the next to have more weight behind it.

"Ya know..." The pi(lot)rate snickered from the bull's back, "It ain't polite to interrupt like that." A swift kick to the rear sent the white-haired knockoff tumbling.

"Now then, who's goggles were getting torn off, eh? Wahahahaha!" He laughed menacingly, making his best impression at being the villain.

A bell chimed as Volo moved to finish the fight and an old woman waddled out from the shadows, "Knock off all dat racket, ya 'ear!!?" She roared, whacking the unsuspecting pi(lot)rate upside his head.

"Yer drivin away all me customers!" Her wrinkled fist waved angrily with every word. "Who are ye and what do ye think yer doin out 'ere, eh? Answer me sonny, 'fore I -..."

"GRAN!" Winny finally shouted, having repeatedly tried to grab the woman's attention.

"Huh? Whas'at..? Oh! Winny, dear, I didn't see ya there." Adjusting her thick-rimmed glasses as she gave the boy a soft smile before turning back to Volo and company.

"Now, looks 'ere, sonny-.."

"GRAN!!" Winny shouted again, pointing to his ears once he had her attention.

"Huh..? Oh! Right.. now... where did I put that dang flabid doohickey...." Fishing in her deep, grease-stained pockets, Granny pulled out a small device resembling a saxophone.

"Now, whas'at, Winny?"

The grease ball of a boy motioned her closer as he whispered in her ear, "They are customers, the green-haired one is a pirate, probably rich."

Like a switch, the Granny who turned around couldn't be the same hag that was stomping around moments ago. "Well, 'ello there, 'earies, why don't ye all come inside and take a look around, eh? Yes, come, come, all together now." Her eyes were replaced with belly signs as she gave Winny a job-well-done smile.

Once inside, the group was greeted with rows and rows of metal parts. Half-finished projects littered the floor and a tiny cash register sat on a small counter in the center of the room.

"And whas'it I can help you, dearies with, hmm?" She said with a customer service smile.

"Gran, Gran!" Winny shouted excitedly, "It's him! He's the one!"

"Whas'at Winny dear, the one?"

"With the airship, he's the one with the flying ship I told you I saw!!"

"Now that so..?" She questioned skeptically, looking the unimpressive discount Volo up and down. "This is the one, eh? Ain't much to look at if ya ask me..."

"Not that one!" Winny shouted, "This one!" Pointing towards the real Volo, who responded with an arrogant smirk.

"Hmmm...." She mumbled giving him the once over, "This ones worse.."

"I'm tellin ya Gran, I saw it! With my own eyes!"

"Of course, of course. I believe ya, sonny, is just, look at him."

"Trust me, Gran, I got the same impression, but he ain't all that bad!"

"Well, whas'it we can do for this not-so-bad pirate?"

"He nee-.."

Puru Puru Puru Puru

The sound came from a customized Den Den Mushi sitting behind the old woman. It's receiver was outfitted with a larger version of the Listen Gooder. The downside was that no one else could hear the conversation but Granny.

"Y'ello" Pinako answered, "Uhuh...hmm... Oh... Right...mhm...Ok..Buh-bye"

Click

Without missing a beat the old woman returned to her business. "So, Sonny, what can we do for ye?"

"The kid said you guys could help fix my ship, said you'd have the part in stock."

"Depends on the part." She glanced towards Winny.

"Medium weight line for the fuel pump injector."

"Hmmm..." Pinako mumbled as she spun around in her seat and glanced up at the towering wall of parts. "Well, yer in luck..."

"You have it?"

"Yup."

Volo paused for a moment waiting for some sort of follow-up before responding, "Sooooo, are you gonna get it.... or...?" Glancing around confused.

"Nope. Can't."

"W-...Why not..?"

"Not 'ere."

"But you said, I thought, but..."

"We got it, just not 'ere. Parts at the warehouse over in Carbuncle."

"Then why did you say we were in luck?"

"Cause we are going over there now, grab yer bag Winny, factories on the fritz again." Replying as she slip off the stool and began to collect what they'd need for the job.

With a heavy sigh, "I keep tellin em to stop being cheap and let me fabricate new ones. But nooooooo, just wanna take the cheap way out."

"Let's go you three, ferry leaves in twenty, can't miss it if ya want that part."

WC 790/4,644

Wed Apr 03, 2024 6:09 am

No burning lanterns... No flaming hot oven... Not even a torch was in sight that Karl could use to light up the poison that was held between his lips. But the saying still seems to hold some truth to it... Patience once more has paid off... On one shape or another.

[plyr=pirt]"Hrm... What the... OOOOOOOOOOOOOH! FIRE FIRE!"[/plyr]

Karl had sought and asked... And he had received. A small 'candle' light had appeared in front of him at the stomach height... A god sent? Possibly... But who cares? Karl planned to take hold of the opportunity. He bowed forward a bit and doused the tobacco end of the cigarette with the gentle yellowish-orange flame while frantically inhaling the toxins.

[plyr=pirt]"That's the stuff..."[/plyr] He expressed his relief after exhaling the white smoke. As he flicked the ash off the smoked end, he looked down where the flame had come from. [plyr=pirt]"Huh, Volo? What are you sitting there all sad and beat up?"[/plyr]

Karl stepped away from the Volo-shaped lad, moving back towards where he had left the bottle with devil's liquid. [plyr=pirt]"Stop fooling around and go grab your part."[/plyr]

But the part they were seeking for the 'ship' wasn't here... It was on another island... [plyr=pirt]"Fine..."[/plyr] Karl reluctantly agreed to follow Volo, Winny and Granny to a soon-to-depart ferry. [plyr=pirt]"It's a ferry ferry? Right? RIGHT?!"[/plyr]

Uneasiness kicked in. One that not even the cigarette could ease.

[234/3668]

Group:

Wed Apr 03, 2024 8:34 am

"Ahhhh.. Brotherly love. A beautiful thing."

Orion followed his feet, arriving in front of a small mechanics shop where a pair of twin brothers in matching outfits seemed to be settling a dispute the only way brothers knew how. Nostalgic in the best of ways, it reminded Orion of his past.

A simpler time, when he and Archie and their other siblings would, from the comfort of their jail cell, would settle arguments through wrestling matches. Archie always won.

Distracted by the display of familial affection, Orion didn't notice the shop proper until a rambunctious old lady walked out to chastise the twins. The shop itself seemed humble but filled to the brim with organized chaos. A tinkerer's paradise. Behind, a junkyard stretched, absolutely loaded with wonders that dazzled Orion's hoard–collectors itch. Orion lived by the creed, 'Everyman's trash is my treasure. Everyman's treasure is also my treasure.'

Also, Orion was positive that some of his Gacha's had flown into that goldmine.

So when it appeared they seemed to be leaving Orion thought this was his moment. A quick hop of the fence, maybe another backpack, and Orion would be sitting pretty. Yet, he found himself padding after them.

Perhaps, it was the hope of something even more enticing than a junkyard shop, or the sight of a twin's squabble. Perhaps, fate was stringing him along. Perhaps, he saw the young boy with them fiddling with a Gacha.

"For my balls!"

Word Count:

Wed Apr 03, 2024 10:27 am

~9:15 AM, April 1, 1829, In a very one-sided brawl…

Ickarus heaved a deep inhale whilst he throttled his blunt-fisted jabs to the max.

“Reform for…a second so I can…grab those goggles!” The waxman huffily lurched, continuing to throw heavy blows towards the dark smoke. The noxious scent of the gas wasn’t helping, no, not at all.

Ickarus perceived the gray matter swirl behind him a second too late. He flopped to the floor, having received an impact that would no doubt leave a boot-shaped bruise for weeks to come. His goggles cracked and skidded off as Ickarus had a dusty face-full of earth for breakfast.

The comical flame atop his hair’s “wick” was still angrily fighting, even as the owner of the hair struggled to stand. Arse up. How humbling. Stupid clone.

His sensitive pride was pummeled further as the owl giggled gleefully over him. “Watch it,” Ickarus growled. “I’ll slug you once I figure out how.”

As if the precarious position could get even more embarrassing, Blondie Bartender rushed over. Babbling something about fire, he used the waxman’s wick. To light a cigarette.

…

Ickarus jerked up in absolute indignation.

“Hey! That’s humiliating! I’m not a lighter!” the engineer hollered. To be quite frank, he wasn’t sure what exactly to be upset about at the moment, so he deduced the best option was to be pissed about all of it. “And on my dead father who the heck is Volo?!”

A bell chimed, ticking the air with its noise. Ickarus’s dirt-smeared face glanced back, and with no little satisfaction, watched his double receive a nice welt from a little old granny.

He took a once-over glance at the wizened…actually, scratch that. Wizened was an understatement. Ickarus wouldn’t be surprised if this woman before him creaked when she walked and leaked dust when she farted. Not to mention she was even shorter than some of the smallest Torinos he had seen.

Little Miss Dinosaur was apparently the grandma of the ginger youth (Winny, it would seem) who was accompanying the copycat and the bartender. Dusting himself off, Ickarus took a gander at listening in.

“With the airship, he’s the one with the flying ship I told you I saw!” the child crowed.

Airship.

Blimp.

This budget reproduction, Volo, owned the blimp. Ickarus’s mind stuttered as it decided whether this was luck, fate, or his own personal hell.

He politely ignored the fossil’s overtly rude comment and eavesdropped with piqued interest. From what he gathered, the ship was torn up pretty badly…he could fix it, though! Ickarus was a shipwright, of course. Old Wrinkles searched through the dozens, maybe hundreds, of mechanical parts, metal devices, and other articles to compliment a mechanic’s spirit that populated the shed.

A ferry to Carbuncle, apparently on another island of the Jolly Keys, was needed. In a heartbeat, Ickarus grinned madly, desperate to see this flying machine. No doubt it was an inventor’s fantasy, easily worth a trip across islands…he’d take on an army of Marines to get a glimpse!

“I’m tagging along. I’m a shipwright, I can repair the woodwork while Ginger works mechanics! Just let me see this ship!” the waxman declared, his inventor’s hunger prowling in his gut.

WC: 524 / 2867

Wed Apr 10, 2024 4:23 pm

Chapter 4

Many years ago...

An island in the Grand Line...

A thick miasma oppressed the senses of an urchin as she waddled aimlessly barefooted, confined within the ruins of a country betrayed. Her threadbare clothes, ragged red hair, and speckled brown skin were all caked with mud and grime. Splinters of wrecked wood and edges of shattered stone maimed her exposed soles with every step, but she braved on until a voice challenged her drift.

[npc=bhun]"Sorry, kid. No one gets out alive."[/npc] A rifleman followed her from behind, his face obscured by a crow-like gas mask that guarded him from the suffocating mist. The child did not move. She only waited for death to finally overtake her.

[npc=bhun]"Don't worry, it won't hurt. You're going somewhere a damn sight better than here, I promise,"[/npc] the hunter said. Perhaps he even believed it.

[npc=misc]"He's not wrong,"[/npc] a younger voice called out from behind a pile of rubble. A stream of noisy stones skittered down the jagged slope as the newcomer reached its peak, standing over them with his hands in his pockets and a beaming white smile to match his ashen hair.

[npc=misc]"The hurt is over, and you are going to a better place, but not the one he was about to send you to,"[/npc] the silver-haired youngster declared to the redhead—who was some eight or nine years his junior.

[npc=bhun]"You're the brat who's been attacking the exterminators, aren't you?"[/npc] The hunter piloted the muzzle of his rifle to face the newcomer.

[npc=misc]"That's me. And you're the sicko who's been--"[/npc] A loud gunshot interrupted him, emerging from the smoking barrel of the hunter. The man fired again and again and again until he finally understood the futility of his actions as every shot seemed to disintegrate against some imperceptible barrier between him and his quarry.

[npc=misc]"People can make walls just by crossing their fingers,"[/npc] he said, lifting two sets of crossed fingers, one on each hand. [npc=misc]"Even kids know this,"[/npc] he claimed with a wink at the freckled girl.

[npc=bhun]"Shit! An ability-user!"[/npc] The hunter panicked, turning tail to run.

[npc=misc]"And here I was trying to keep it a secret,"[/npc] the cheeky teen said as he pushed his crossed fingers forward. A muffled thud heralded the hunter's demise when he crashed into an invisible wall headfirst. His body slumped against thin air until it slowly slid to the ground.

The boy skipped down the rubble towards the paralyzed girl, offering her a hand. [npc=misc]"My name is Jax Galinstan and I'm about to get off this shitty island. Care to come with?"[/npc]

April 1, 1829, ~12:00 P.M.

Amidst a rowdy group of strangers somewhere in Port Teardrop...

Pinako Bell, the wrinkled old bag for a mechanic, paraded towards the docks, her feet snappier than a squirrel's. Her sandals click-clacked on the cobblestone path, followed by a troop of young louts—most of them strangers to her still. Her listen-gooder was properly hooked for once, though it made her ear itch something awful.

A small ferry waited near the end of the busy pier they were marching down. When the wax-head among her escortees insisted on seeing the flying ship, she shook her head. [npc=misc]"Nae now, dearie. Ye'll have tae hold yer horses. We cannae fix th' ship wi'oot the right bits. Just ask me wee lad."[/npc] She looked to her grandson for agreement.

But, the ginger brat seemed distracted by an unexpected stalker. [npc=misc]"Uhhh... sure, granny--listen, I think that weird guy is following us. He's been staring at my gacha; I think he may be drooling,"[/npc] he said, pocketing the tiny mystery ball before the pervert had a chance to pounce on it.

The old bag turned to get a good measure of him. After a few seconds of competing in the Seniors' League of Mental Gymnastics, she presented her conclusion. [npc=misc]"Nay, that there's clearly th' third o' th' brothers. Lookit, he's got green 'n' white locks. He must be th' middle bairn. Come, come. Ye might as well get on board too,"[/npc] she said with the storied welcoming spirit of an over-friendly grandma.

Winny might have argued had Pinako not chosen that exact moment to unscrew the listen-gooder from her ear. She never did love the blaring of the ferry motors.

[npc=misc]"Fine! Just stay away from my gacha,"[/npc] the boy warned their newest companion as he hopped aboard the small square boat after dutifully aiding his granny's climb up the rocking vessel.

[npc=misc]"My granny and I made the cola engine they use in this motor! My pops designed it, but I made it better. I can't wait to see your airship! I'll make it run better too - so you don't fall out of the sky again,"[/npc] he pledged to the pi(lot)rate with a confident grin, his grease-stained hand mimicking the steep descent of the skycraft.

Obliviating the matter of their stalker entirely, Winny carried on with descriptions of one contraption after another. The ferry to the factories on Sinister Eyeland would no doubt be the storyteller's best stage.

April 1, 1829, ~12:20 A.M.

The docks of La Crima...

Two longboats crashed against the La Crima beach near the docks, ushering a band of armed men and women in slapdash suits. Rear Admiral Bradley Nottingham led the new arrivals, marching through the sand and barking orders at the scattered undercover marines who were finishing cleaning up the rabble followers of "Gurdy" Brow.

He stepped into a small shed, the interior lit only by the thin beams of light leaking through the shutters. Yumiko stood at attention while Virtanen lingered near the corner, nonchalantly strumming the string of his ox-horned bow, as Bradley advanced towards a beaten single-browed man. He was tied to a chair in the center of the room, grumbling at his misfortune under his breath.

[npc=navy]"I heard you were the one who caught him, Yumiko. Nice work leaving him alive. Between you, Okirama, and Wyre, looks like I've finally been blessed with some competent subordinates,"[/npc] Bradley said.

[npc=navy]"I'm standing right here, boss,"[/npc] Virtanen retorted with an impertinent pout.

[npc=navy]"I see that. Why don't you make yourself useful?"[/npc] Bradley said as he placed a boot on their prisoner's knee. The meat sack groaned. [npc=navy]"I want you and Yumiko to question unibrow here. Find out what you can about who the hell's running the explosives factories on Carbuncle. If he spits out anything particularly vital, send Yumiko with the message. I trust you can fly to the other island without too much trouble, Yumiko."[/npc] It was not a question.

Bradley sought out Captain Stone Okirama next. Once found, he spoke to the Kodiak with a pleased smile. [npc=navy]"I heard you took care of some toad foreman. Or was it a frog? Well done either way, as usual."[/npc]

At that time, Captain Wyre approached the two officers in disguise. [npc=navy]"I guess they call you 'Meandering' Meredith for good reason. Took you long enough to get here,"[/npc] Bradley said to her with playful mirth.

[npc=navy]"Is that really what you'd like to say to me when I'm about to sail us through treacherous waters, Sir?"[/npc] The brunette marine captain frowned. Her suit had somehow refused to collect any dirt through the morning despite her tendency to wander.

[npc=navy]"Speaking of which, did you assess the ship?"[/npc] Bradley asked.

[npc=navy]"I did. The ship is gaudy and ugly to boot, but I've sailed worse. Just get me on the helm and I'll get us to Carbuncle through whatever these 'Lashes' throw at us,"[/npc] she said with not a hint of doubt.

[npc=navy]"I'd expect nothing less. Now if only our inconvenient friends from the ass-end of the World Government were to join us, we could set sail."[/npc] Bradley remarked with a venomous click.

[npc=cpol]"I hope you aren't talking about us, Nottingham,"[/npc] a smooth voice spoke followed by the flaps of majestic wings. The man with the long wedding-white coat and fedora descended, his arms reverting to their original shape once his dark Derby shoes touched the earth, leaving only a few feathers behind.

[npc=navy]"There he is - and I didn't even have to say his name three times."[/npc] Bradley's venom only grew more potent.

[npc=cpol]"I hope you aren't forgetting you're only here to assist us, marine. Cipher Pol No. 2 is still running point on this operation."[/npc] The chief swiped a gloved hand through his slick black hair before placing his fedora back on his head.

[npc=navy]"Let's just get this over with, Fowl. I'd like to stop mingling with you Cipher Pol washouts as soon as possible,"[/npc] Bradley said with a heavy sigh.

[npc=cpol]"The feeling is mutual. So, off to Carbuncle?"[/npc] Chief Seamus Fowl asked.

[npc=navy]"Seems so. With a name like Sinister Eyeland, it might've been a good idea to start there. We've got a ship and a helmswoman to get us there."[/npc]

[npc=cpol]"Agent Broad and Agent Borrows will be taking over command of my contingent on the ship. I'm flying ahead to scout."[/npc]

[npc=navy]"You're leaving us to deal with 'Side-Piece' and 'Gold Digger'?"[/npc] Meredith spoke up.

[npc=cpol]"They're professionals. You could learn a thing or two from them,"[/npc] Seamus argued.

[npc=navy]"Broad is a creep, and Borrows won't stop asking anyone and everyone for money,"[/npc] Meredith protested. A brief grimace gave away Seamus' agreement.

[npc=cpol]"Professionals work with their flaws. But, enough of this. I'm heading out. I'm sure you'll manage one way or another."[/npc] The chief's body malformed into the visage of a trumpeter swan—long neck, snowy white feathers, wide wings—and took flight towards the looming volcanic island to the west beyond the haze.

April 1, 1829, 11:55 A.M.

At The Soiled Trousers tavern in La Crima...

The commotion of an untimely crowd at The Soiled Trousers tavern spewed out of its grungy walls. The paint of these walls was an uncomfortable match to the image invoked by the establishment's unfortunate name. The squalor inside was abundant, and most of its clientele seemed to fit the bill. Most, but not all.

In a dark corner sat a woman with freckled brown skin and curled red hair. She wore a neat black blazer over a plain brown turtleneck—attire that clashed against her environs. She waited impatiently with her legs crossed, her gaze mostly fixed on the door.

A red-nosed drunkard stumbled over to her empty table, ogling her thirstily. [npc=misc]"Hey durr, purrty lady. Duncha wan' some comp'ny? Ya ain't 'ad a drink nor food nor nuffin neither. Ah've been watchin',"[/npc] he mumbled in tongues, pouring himself into the nearly crippled chair opposite her.

The woman did not react.

[npc=misc]"Ah'm tawkin' to yew, Wendy!"[/npc] He shouted, slamming an open palm on the table.

She finally turned her sharp aquamarine eyes to the intruder. Her blank, emotionless glare spoke volumes even to the drunk fool. The man quivered in his seat for a moment before hastening into a sheepish retreat.

She watched the door once again until the pocket watch in her blazer beeped. A cloaked man in a cowboy hat entered the premises, evading two lumps falling out the door. He needed only a single scan of the hall to find his contact.

[npc=cpol]"Red Tails,"[/npc] he said as he approached.

[npc=cpol]"Hotshot,"[/npc] the woman responded only to be met with a brief flash of cringe in the man's stubbled complexion. When Hotshot was about to take a seat, she warned him against it, [npc=cpol]"I wouldn't if I were you. I think the last oaf who sat there may have soiled his trousers."[/npc]

[npc=cpol]"Fitting. Your work, I'm guessing?"[/npc] Asked the man as he quickly retracted the hand reaching for the chair.

[npc=cpol]"I can't take credit for the man's incontinence,"[/npc] she said, allowing herself the faintest of smirks.

[npc=cpol]"In any case,"[/npc] she continued, [npc=cpol]"I didn't expect you to be here on time given the storm."[/npc]

Hotshot shrugged. [npc=cpol]"Don't be too surprised. Now, let's get on with it."[/npc]

[npc=cpol]"Soru!"[/npc] She said under her breath, disappearing from her seat only to reappear in a dark alley behind the building. Her new partner quickly followed with the same skillful move.

[npc=cpol]"Nice; you might be able to keep up after all,"[/npc] she said.

[npc=cpol]"Like I said, don't be too surprised. So, where're we headed?"[/npc] Hotshot asked.

[npc=cpol]"The plan was to find the target in La Crima, but it looks like he's headed back to Carbuncle. Soru!"[/npc] Their iconic move helped them dart through the backstreets without drawing any ears.

[npc=cpol]"Are you gonna tell me who the target is?"[/npc]

[npc=cpol]"His name is Nesbit Langhorne. They call him 'Three-Eyes'."[/npc]

Notes:

Wed Apr 10, 2024 6:59 pm

[World Event] A Fool's Errand - Page 3 Img_1312

Sunflower (向日葵)

Accepting the disguised swamp maiden’s hand, Sabian sprung to his feet ready to take up round two with Stout, but the superior had already exited the room. Also, the stern glares from both Noah and Kathy put a quell to the blonde's childish outburst.

For the oldest person among his peers, he definitely wasn’t setting a good example, but what could a passionate dinosaur do but roar from his soul?! Since Maquet had introduced herself, Sabian followed suit with a wide toothy grin.

“Sabian. Sabian McQueen! Sunflower of the Revolutionary Army at your service!” He exclaimed, shaking Maquet’s hand firmly. The peer's previous statement now rewound in his mind, “Pch. That grump likes me?! I doubt it!” Sabian exclaimed, shooting a raspberry with his tongue.

With Maquet’s hand still grasped, Sabian took a closer look at the person's interesting manner of dressing. “Is this like a fashion statement or your actual attire?” Sabian inquired rudely. Before long, the steel of a metallic teapot gripped the back of Sabian’s skull with perfect pitch from Kathy.

“I’m so sorry, Maquet! He’s a little… eccentric,” Kathy chimed in. “Oi! Sabian! Apologize! And by the way! Me and Noah have something to tell you!” Kathy declared with a nasty scowl. Scratching the back of his head as if the teapot was but a flea or a passing pebble in the wind, “I’m just saying… I’ve never seen anyone with such a cool mask before!” Sabian exclaimed.

Sighing, “At any rate, Maquet, you’re free to tag along with us. Sabian’s a bit of a nut but he means well. We’ll need a way to move around that dock without attracting marine personnel’s attention? Any ideas, Noah?” Kathy inquired.

“I think we should be more concerned about finding our way to Carbuncle. None of us have experience sailing a ship on our own and plus, both me and Noah are hammers against the oceanic goddess's subtle embrace!” Sabian exclaimed, the inspiration for a piece coming into focus.

@Noah @Anne La Tene

Word Count: 330. 4,143/10,000

^{Sabian’sTracker}

Group Details and Order :

Thu Apr 11, 2024 10:57 pm

Port Teardrop Market - Shortly after 9:15AM

As the shock of the ghastly trinket wore off and the sweetness of clove smoke filled her senses, Aya turned her attention back outside the alleyway to partake in some of her favorite pastimes:

People watching and eavesdropping.

All it took was tuning in to the right tones to guide her to the path of intrigue. The rounded peaks of the red panda's ears twitched to attention toward a sound distinct from the regular clatter and commotion of shops and shoppers.

Some sort of impassioned argument was breaking out somewhere in the distance.

Curiosity may have killed many a cat, but it was now guiding the red panda to race back into the sways of foot traffic, leaving only the scent of cloves and a light sketch of smoke in her wake.

Outside 'Bell's Gears and Grease' - A Quick Jog Later

Often Lesser Minks were a puzzle Aya felt she only had half the pieces of, but the situation she had found by following the arguing was nearly incomprehensible to her.

She had found the rowdy party bickering in front of what seemed to be some strange shop. She kept her distance, grinding the mostly smoked cigarette under the heel of her boot as she tried to make sense of the litany of silent questions that struck her.

What in the world was a 'gear'? And why would someone need an entire shop for grease? Was there that much of a market for that sort of thing? Considering the state of the building, perhaps not.

And more importantly, why go through the trouble of wearing a matching outfit with someone just to get into a fight with them?

A mixed sense of relief and disappointment hit as an ancient woman broke things up and ushered the gaggle indoors.

"...Well... Now what?"

Outside 'Bell's Gears and Grease' - A Little Before 12:00PM

As the flicker of her interest was just about to sputter out and give way to the eternal temptation of a mid-day nap, Aya snapped her attention toward the shop's door as it creaked open again.

Whatever puzzling assembly she had poked into seemed to be on the move. Led by an ancient woman, the odd assortment of Lesser Minks seemed energized by whatever was going on.

With little to do other than to snoop into the business of the transient troop, Aya tailed silently after.

Though the sudden exclamation about balls made her briefly reconsider whether or not this was a good idea.

If she was lucky, they'd be heading to lunch somewhere she could steal a bite. Instead, they seemed to be going toward a pier. Lunch would have to wait.

When the group began boarding a small vessel, Aya patiently waited for the right moment to clamber aboard, using the terrible mechanical cacophony of the motor to mask the sound of her feet on the ferry's deck.

This was closer quarters than she would have preferred to skirt around strangers in, but at least now the invisible Mink could get a better look at who she was following.

And better yet, scope out what interesting stuff they had on them.

{ Post: 512 / Total: 2,007 }

Fri Apr 12, 2024 6:49 pm

Noah listened to what Stout had to say, but before the redhead had a chance to formulate his response, the man was already walking away. With that, the young ones were left behind, still having a task to complete. For a moment, Noah just listened until it was his time to raise chime in.

[plyr=revo]”Noah Lacroix, the pleasure’s all mine. Not that I have much to my name yet, too.”[/plyr] he said, turning to face Marquet. [plyr=revo]”And as long as we have each other’s back”[/plyr] while speaking Noah quickly pointed towards his crew [plyr=revo]”I’m sure we can achieve what we want. Knowing that somebody looks after you makes our work much easier.”[/plyr]

Shortly after he had to smirk when Sabian raised his voice again- just to be quickly served justice by Kathy. As much as the blonde loved to flirt with women, he simultaneously had the talent to drop a clanger. Soon after, it was time to be professional again.

[plyr=revo]”Not attracting attention, huh?”[/plyr] As the redhead repeated these words, he started to think of ways how they could proceed. Trying to pass as personnel of the marines? No, this would be too risky for his liking. However, it still gave him another idea.

[plyr=revo]”We would need to blend in. With whatever tumult that is going on, I’m sure they wouldn’t check every single simple dock worker who has business there. So, if we could manage to pass as those, we might have a chance to somewhat freely move within the docks.”[/plyr] After a short break, he continued. [plyr=revo]”Though this might require that we find some ‘volunteers’ who are willing ‘to lend us’ their uniforms… if you get what I mean.”[/plyr]

Finally, he addressed Sabian’s concern. [plyr=revo]”True, maybe we should split up a bit as soon as we are in the docks? Some of us could focus on intel gathering, while the rest could try to find a way to cross the sea. Though, in a worst-case scenario, I might be able to fly everybody over.”[/plyr]

WC: 336 | 3,189/10,000

Mon Apr 15, 2024 2:57 pm

Outside the Ferry, Port Teardrop, ~12:00 PM

Orion could practically kiss the old lady. He probably would have too, if he weren't sure she tasted like rust, cobwebs, and hard candy. With a hand wave, some attitude, and what looked like the well-timed removal of a listening device, she had successfully integrated Orion into the twin's party with all the ease of a career politician. Given how she kept looking at him and then glancing at the twins, he was positive she had made some incorrect assumptions but he wasn't one to waste a golden opportunity.

Orion fell in behind the trio, the grandma, and the small boy. The others gave him curious glances but left him otherwise unmolested. The boy, however, all vigor and fire, matching the cascade of red atop his unruly head took one look at Orion, said something Orion couldn't make out, and then hid a gacha ball behind his small back.

Sparks flew across eye contact. Shots were fired. A rivalry was formed.

Orion wiped the slight trickle of drool from his face, patted the burgeoning pockets of his duster, and readjusted the straps of his overflowing backpack. The soothing sound of gachas and other junk clinked reassuringly on his person.

"But.. How did he know?"

Upon the Ferry, ~12:05 PM

The ferry carved a lazy trail through the ocean wake. A smooth ride more akin to riding a train over gentle hills than a ship fighting surf and current. Ocean spray, filled with the scent of salt and wind, and the tang of cola smoke buffeted its riders with light kisses.

The idyllic scene stopped there. A ferry belched thick smoke in a banshee shriek of gears, like the greatest of Spider Mile's factories. Its rails vibrated with an audible hum, and Orion's newest archrival clattered endlessly about mechanical adjustments and engineering formulae that Orion found as tiresome as social morays.

The twins seemed to nod along at every factoid, positively charged by their technical tour guide. It was endearing, cute even, to see a pair of twins so alike in looks and interests. Even to Orion's discerning antiquarian eye, they were almost perfect matches. The pair were almost collectible if the very idea of owning people didn't revolt Orion to his core. Orion looked away from the pair, biting back the distasteful thought as if he had eaten something sour.

Their other comrade, well, Orion knew the type. That dour look. The deep bags beneath their glossed-over eyes. Their sole focus seemingly condensed to the tip of their cigarette, where all of the force of their will encouraged the cigarette to burn more slowly, to last just a bit longer. Orion had seen enough of that type in the unforgiving alleys of Spider Miles to sift them out of any crowd.

He and his new friend were trauma bonding. They just didn't know it yet.

Setting his monster of a backpack down, Orion shuffled through his newly acquired wares in search of his goal, carefully setting each knick-knack or secondhand hobbyist toy down with the delicate fingers used to handle fine china upon the ferry's shiplap floorboards.

Unbothered by the stares, he organized his items into small groups–bottlecaps here, refurbished yoyo this way, flattened Bellis imprinted with Port Teardrop there, cool-looking rock that way… Orion fished through a veritable pile of garbage.

"Aha!"

Surefooted, with a cock-side grin, a bottle of booze, and some soggy cigarettes, Orion approached the sullen member of the party. Sidling up to the man's side, he shoved the items into the man's hands with a knowing look. Some vices were easier to come by than others… not that Orion could judge.

Orion didn't bother to stand on ceremony, he didn't expect a thank you. Instead, he planted his umbrella ramrod straight on the surface of the floor. With friction so high his umbrella may as well be bolted to the ferry, Orion leaned his bulk upon it like was a supporting pillar.

Unguarded, relaxed, and with a friendly voice more than loud enough to overpower the racket that was the ferry's standard state of operation.

"Heh, the twin brothers are cute. You think they do birthday parties?"

Word Count:

Tue Apr 16, 2024 2:00 pm

As far as introductions go, Maquet had seen better ones. Ones that did not involve brawls with her superior officers or death glares by strangers. On the other hand, she was not at the receiving end, so she had also seen worse introductions. She firmly shook Sabian’s hand after helping him rise to his feet, nodding politely at his own introduction. ”A pleasure to meet you as well. And believe me. As rough of a… ‘talking to…’ that was, Sergeant Stout doesn’t bicker with those he feels are ‘worthless.’ If he didn’t like you or thought you didn’t belong… you’d be off the mission at best.”

The comments on her mask made Maquet softly chuckle. ”This mask serves a few purposes. It is sturdy enough to function as light armor, like if I was punched in the face or slashed by a lightweight blade. It allows me some anonymity, so I can have some downtime without too much worry. And…” She leans in towards Sabian and talks slightly quieter. ”It is a pretty cool mask, isn’t it?”

Maquet also accepted Noah’s introduction with a friendly nod. ”Thank you, I believe you are right. As a team, we can accomplish much more than an individual ever could. I shall trust you with my life, if you trust me with yours.”

Stealth and subtlety made sense for this mission - despite what Maquet had seen with Sabian. However, something did bother her. ”The disguises…" There was some hesitance in her voice, as she looked down and away. "I doubt that a lot of dock workers wear metal masks. I.. am not world-famous in my civvie identity, but I’d rather not have too many people connecting my face with the NRA." She sighed softly, and tried to put a hand on Sabian's and Noah's shoulders. "This is a tall ask for someone you just met, and I've been talking your ears off, but... If things go south… well… if anyone wants to talk with any of us, could someone do the talking for me so nobody gets too close?”

word count:

Sun Apr 21, 2024 6:44 am

April 1, 1829, ~11:30 AM

Docks of La Crima...

Hesitation gripped the pirate swarm, stopped them in their tracks. The closest foes staggered away from the monstrous weasel, clutching their weapons. Some looked ready to fight, others seemed on the verge of surrender. An army without a leader was sure to collapse. It was only a matter of time...

And violence.

Yumiko, for one, didn’t wait to see if the villains might surrender. She had neither the time nor the focus to read every criminal their rights. Claws scraping against the stone, sending a shower of sparks, she charged wildly back into the fray.

Winds howled. Steel clashed. Blood splattered. At one point, a pained, baffled and honestly offended yelp from an unfortunate foe announced that his bottom had been bitten. Granted, the language used was far more... Colorful.

While these pirates could be accused of many crimes, cowardice was not among them. They fought back fiercely. Sheer numbers couldn’t bridge the gap in strength, but it came close. Much too close...

Soon, thanks to everyone’s brave efforts, the marine forces emerged victorious. They spread out to suppress the last stragglers. Fallen foes littered the ground like leaves after an autumn storm.

With the veritable horde of hundreds quelled, the weasel woman could finally release a sigh of relief. Relaxing her fighting stance, she stood up on her hindlegs. Following deep, calming breaths, her body started shrinking. Slowly, the dark fur receded, revealing the pale skin beneath.

In a moment, the monster was gone and the warrior returned. Her stained and tattered disguise clung to her body weakly, like it might fall apart at any moment. Similarly, she was bruised and wounded... But still standing. Despite the sorry state, she held her head high.

Awful racket... silenced.

April 1, 1829, ~12:20 PM

Docks of La Crima...

While waiting for reinforcements, the warrior and the archer took the suspect into a small shed. Calling it any sort of office was akin to mistaking a sailboat for a battleship. The air held a musty stench. Filth lingered on the floor. Only a single chair was intact enough to seat the suspect. Still, it was better than nothing. ...If only barely.

The warrior had discarded most of the ruined clothing, besides the torn pants. Freshly wrapped bandages covered her lean figure. She wasn’t a fan of how much they constricted her movement, but the medic had insisted that was precisely the point.

As the imposing shadow squeezed into the small shed, the wounded guard clicked her heels together and saluted. “Sir, thank you, sir!” Beneath the stern stare and tone, she was giddy beyond words. The praise tasted sweeter than any ambrosia. At last... Acknowledgement.

Upon receiving a sacred mission, Yumiko nearly lost her composure. Her body desperately tried to scream the truth, but her pride wouldn’t allow it. “Y-yes, sir. Without any trouble, sir.” She lied. Even if she had been missing an arm and a leg, she would’ve still insisted she was fine.

A samurai felt no pain.

April 1, 1829, ~12:40 PM

Docks of La Crima...

After the Rear Admiral left, the Lieutanent Commander went to -as his boss had put it- make himself useful. He leaned against the least dirty wall and cast a curious look at the prisoner. [npc=navy]“Alright, songbird. How about you sing for us?”[/npc]

Gurdy cracked a broken smile. [npc=pirt]“I ain’t-”[/npc]

However, the smug refusal was cut short by a much sharper and louder refusal. “No!” ...From the weasel, of all people.

The two men stared at the warrior in shared disbelief.

[npc=navy]“Wha-?”[/npc]
[npc=pirt]“Wha-?”[/npc]

Yumiko folded her arms and planted her feet. “Absolutely not. There shall be no singing from him. I forbid such crimes against all ears.” She was not budging on this matter.

The criminal’s eye twitched. Nobody told him when he could or couldn’t sing, especially not some hater of the fine arts. [npc=pirt]“Harrh, I ain’t here to appease. I sing when I damn well please.”[/npc] Clearing his throat, he searched for a tune. It had to be there somewhere, beneath all the gravel.

[npc=pirt]“Oooo~ There once was a ship that put to sea~!”[/npc]

Swift as the wind, Yumiko yanked one of the man’s socks off and stuffed it into his mouth. “Silence. Thou are not involved in this.”

Gurdy spat out the silencer. His tone gained an irritated edge. [npc=pirt]“Not involved?! Has your brain dissolved? I’m the one in charge, guys! Right after Earful and Three-Eyes!”[/npc]

For a moment there, the archer was about to intervene... But you shouldn’t interrupt an enemy who was making a mistake. It was better to just hang back and let the ugly songbird bicker with the stubborn weasel... They sang surprisingly well together.

Meanwhile, Yumiko was busy missing the point. “Congratulations, thou are the dog of lords who care nothing of thy well-being.” And the irony.

Squirming in the seat, the stocky pirate barked back. [npc=pirt]“Earful tapped your snails. Shared all your tales.”[/npc] He gloated with a broken grin. [npc=pirt]“Your boss never had a hint. And neither did you, ya stupid bint.”[/npc]

The loyal warrior jabbed a finger against the fool’s forehead. “Bite thy tongue, villain!” Each point was punctuated by a poke. “Sir Nottingham is nothing short of a perfect leader! An icon! A hero! He alone is enough to deal with those cowards, who hide behind their lackeys.”

Gurdy gritted his broken teeth. [npc=pirt]“Yeah? Then how about Iron Beast, name ring a bell? He’ll stomp you all straight to Hell.”[/npc] His grin sharpened just thinking about it.

Virtanen chimed in from the background, ever so casually coaxing the parrot to sing just a little more. [npc=navy]“Wait, the Shichibukai? Rubill Silver?”[/npc] His lazy expression did wonders hiding the emotions roiling inside.

And the birdie all too happily ate the poisoned seeds. [npc=pirt]“Sure, Three-Eyes stands on the stage. But behind the curtain, Silver is all the rage.”[/npc] He chuckled at his own rhyme, pleased with his creative genius.

[npc=navy]“And he’s here now?”[/npc] The slouch probed. It proved effective.

[npc=pirt]“Yeah, in the Sinister Eyeland lurks the big boss. Face it, pal, it’s your loss.”[/npc] The singer couldn’t resist gloating. Nobody could.

Virtanen scratched his chin briefly. [npc=navy]“Got it...”[/npc] Turning to the fuming weasel, he put on his authority voice. Hated using it, but it worked well with this girl. [npc=navy]“Yumiko, go warn the Rear Admiral. Let him know that Rubill Silver is on the Sinister Eyeland. Also, tell him that our snails have been compromised.”[/npc]

Finally, the realization hit the songbird. [npc=pirt]“I-wait, crap...!”[/npc] He clamped his mouth shut, as if that would somehow help him take the blurted words back.

Yumiko’s eyes widened with an equal realization. “Understood! Moving out!” She charged right out the door.

...A moment later, the warrior rushed back. She latched onto her superior’s messy suit. “Sir Virtanen, I am borrowing thy jacket! Please and thank you!” It left very little room for arguing.

Thankfully, the slouch was not the argumentative type. After a couple of puzzled blinks, he slipped out of the clothing. [npc=navy]“Oh, sure. We can’t have you catching a cold.”[/npc] Not to even mention the whole decency problem hiding behind a flimsy layer of bandages.

Yumiko tossed on the jacket haphazardly. It was at least two sizes too big, hanging over her like a cloak. Perfect. “Nay, I need it to catch the wind.” And with that odd comment, she was off again.

[npc=navy]“...Right.”[/npc] Well, whatever got the job done.

Outside the shed, whirling winds howled briefly.

April 1, 1829, ~1:00 PM

Somewhere on the treacherous waters of Jolly Keys...

High above the hazy seas, the human kite stared at the treacherous sea below. Her keen gaze focused on a rather, erm, unique ship. What purpose did the fiery pattern serve...? At least it was easy to spot... For better or worse...

Swooping down, the flying woman approached the vessel quickly. A little too quickly. She tried to slow down, but... Her burning muscles only groaned in protest. Landing with a thud and a stumble, she bowled over at least two of her comrades, before stopping.

Wheezing weakly, the warrior tried to find her legs. “Mine... apologies...!” She shook her head vigorously to banish the dizziness and hurried over to the Rear Admiral. Ignoring the twinging pain shooting up her ankle and leg, she knelt down. “Sir...! I have... a report...!”

With strained gasps, the samurai relayed the information squeezed out of the prisoner. She told them about how Earful and Three-Eyes were in charge. Borrowing Virtanen’s words, she also warned that the snails were compromised. And then the worst news...

The mastermind behind it all, Rubill Silver, awaited on the island.

Words: 1402
Total: 4758

Sat Apr 27, 2024 9:23 am

Dammit, Dammit, DAMMIT!

Hyde cursed over and over again in his mind from his hiding place. He had been counting on slipping onto Carbuncle through Nesbitt's ship. But as he had scanned the area using his false sea gull, he had discovered that the man had already left! His ship was already enroute to the nearby island, and now Hyde was stuck here, hiding in the docks, surrounded by marines! And not just regular marines as well, but big wigs. The only upside to this was that they were just done fighting a bunch of pirates here, so they weren't actively looking for anyone else. It gave Hyde time to think, time to plan.

And also, time to spy. There was something big going down in this place, and with the marines sending in big wigs in, it was something Hyde was certainly not going to stay out of. With Nesbitt off of the table for now, he decided to turn his attention towards the marines. He had learned that the myth zoan was, in fact, NOT Nottingham, but some woman named Yumiko. While Hyde felt a little embarrassed about the initial mistake, that did leave the question as to WHO this Yumiko was. She seemed to be his subordinate, but something about that just felt...wrong. Someone with that sort of power, being such a low rank?

Regardless, he could work that out later. Right now, there was spying to be done. Yumiko and another marine had taken the leader of this little band over to a shed to interrogate him, and Hyde was going to watch. His painted sea gull flew over to a small window in the side of the shed, peeking in. After all, the docks were crawling of marines. Who would suspect anyone spying in on an interrogation, especially a simple bird?

And what Hyde heard was possibly the most shocking piece of news to date. Rubill Silver, the Shichibukai, was behind all of this? This was getting bigger and bigger by the second. The Warlords were a HUGE deal, and if there was conflict going on between one of them and the government. Just who else was going to get involved in this? A Yonkou?

Now, more than ever, Hyde had to get out of here. Hyde HAD to get to Carbuncle. But he had to slip away without the marines seeing him. Sneaking onto a ship was out of the question, the only one most likely heading to Carbuncle any time soon was most likely the marines themselves, and he couldn't risk sneaking onto that. He thought for a moment. There was one potential way, but he had to draw attention away from him first. He looked at the ground around his feet. Ok, he certainly had enough space.

The seagull quickly faded back into a simple drawing as Hyde started scribbling on the floor. It was simple, but it would be effective enough. Before long, two small things that can only be described as bombs on legs sprang up before him. The drawing didn't need to make sense, just do what they needed to do. "Ok, off you go you two," Hyde whispered, the two bombs scurrying off amongst the crates as he started to draw again on the ground, this time something larger. With their small size, they were easily able to slip around the docks without being seen. Before long, Hyde could tell they were in position.

Ok, here goes nothing.

Despite being bombs, they didn't so much explode as instead pop. The intent hadn't been to cause damage, but instead to cause a loud enough 'Bang!' Marine spun around in the direction of the sound. "What the hell!?" With everything going on here, naturally they were on edge, so this was just what was needed to draw their attention.

And, with their focus away from him, a large bird suddenly shot up from behind the crates, taking off into the sky. Hyde clung on for dear life as it turned and headed out over the water. He had never done this before, and was so, SO damn relieved it was working. Gloved hands gripped the bird's feathers as it carried him skyward. At this point, he could afford to worry if anyone had spotted him taking off. What was important now was that he get over to Carbuncle.

As the artifical bird flew over the water, Hyde's eyes scanned the ocean below. Even though he had found his own transport to the island, and with the information he had learned, he still felt like Nesbitt was his best bet. He kept his eyes out, trying to find his ship, as well as seeing just who else was making a rush for this place. This was going to be big, and he was going to be a part of it!

Post Word Count: 809
Total Word Count: 3,453

Mon Apr 29, 2024 8:34 am

Sunflower (向日葵)

Nursing the wound caused by the teapot’s metallic embrace, Sabian listened to Maquet’s explanation about her mask. A smile couldn’t help but materialize on his face. "The coolest. Everyone has something they treasure dearly. For me, it’s these hands of mine," Sabian said, flailing his hands like a seven-year-old, carefree but playfully in Maquet’s direction.

The group discussed the best move going forward. One of the rookies was sent to retrieve Stout, and the revolutionaries held a makeshift scrum meeting with Noah and Stout at the helm of the discussion. The idea of disguises came into the fray, with both Maquet and Noah sharing their ideas on this.

Raising his hand, “If it comes to Maquet, I’ll do the talking for you,” Sabian declared, reassuringly placing his hand on Maquet’s shoulder. “With that being said, Kathy and Noah can investigate what’s going on at the dock. Maquet and I could look for our way out of this shithole,” Sabian stated.

“I kind of already have a lead on that one anyway. Might just need to make a bit of a detour on our way to the dock,” Sabian said, grinning widely.

“If Sabian’s going, we need someone to babysit him. I’d nominate Stout. He already has a good relationship with Maquet, and he’s the only one who can put that knucklehead down outside of Noah,” Kathy chimed in.

“B-Babysit! I admit I tend to get a bit passionate, but I wouldn’t risk your lives to fulfill my impulses,” Sabian was about to enter into another outburst, but a firm stare from Stout, Noah, and Kathy brought an abrupt end to the half-reptile, half-man.

La Crima Docks - 12:00 PM

First, an infantry of spies assembled at the dock. A small unit of three revolutionaries went in and assessed the lay of the land. Most of the workers had clocked out due to the chaos that was currently ensuing at the dock. The pirate and marine factions were plenty and widespread. However, the marines seemed to have the upper hand.

They’d managed to retrieve enough work clothes for everyone present. A variety of hoodies, jackets, employee shirts, and more scattered across the floor of an abandoned outpost at the outskirts of the dock. Assembling his disguise, Sabian quickly got dressed, as Noah inquired about what took him so long to arrive at the dock.

“We said 12:00, Sabian. Sharp. Where did you bolt off to after the Tackling Whale?” Kathy inquired.

“Insurance. Relax. Now I know what I’m looking for,” Sabian stated with a grin.

Moments after getting dressed, Noah debriefed the troops, and without a second to waste, Sabian grabbed onto Maquet’s hand and stormed off into the docks headfirst. Stout swiftly followed afterward, and everyone sighed a breath of relief for not being on Sabian’s team.

@Noah @Anne La Tene

Word Count: 467. 4,610/10,000

^{Sabian’sTracker}

Group Details and Order :

Mon Apr 29, 2024 9:46 am

Someone once said life is like a rollercoaster full of ups and downs. The morning was full of the former, both figuratively and literally. But, as the morning transcended into lunch, things began to settle.

Like the sun was getting up for lunch, so seemed to be the rollercoaster of life for Karl. [plyr=pirt]"Finally. Everything's comin' up Karl."[/plyr] A small smile crept on Karl's lips as he leaned back against the wall, setting his sight out on the sea.

His biggest fear had not been realized. At least the people of this island had the right idea of traveling. Life on a normal boat is a peaceful one. [plyr=pirt]"That's how we should be traveling... Dumbass."[/plyr] he wanted to throw something in Volo's head to solidify what he said... But everything he carried was way too precious to let go.

A bottle hidden under his vest, a bottle set down next to him, a lighter, even a brand new bottle of lighter fluid, and a package of cigarettes he had grabbed from rdocks vendor... He was not ready to give up any of them.

To celebrate the day finally going well, Karl decided to reward himself. He took a swig of vodka from the bottle and tried to finally have a cigarette in peace.

[plyr=pirt]"A booze on my side..."[/plyr] He opened the package and flicked a cigarette between his lips. [plyr=pirt]"A cigarette between my lips. A sun up... Life is gooooood."[/plyr] All that was left to do now was to light up the cigarette.

While his hands were combing through his pockets, the sound of a friendly voice levitated over his head. [plyr=pirt]"Where is... Hrm fluid here... Now where... Where... Wheeeeere?"[/plyr]

Life has a sick sense of humor. It takes forever to build something up, but only a moment to break it down. [plyr=pirt]"Where the hell is my lighter?!"[/plyr] As his head 'rotated' on the neck, he noticed the cheery happy fellow next to him.

[plyr=pirt]"Who the fuck are you?"[/plyr] Karl leaned off the wall and stared at the tall long-haired fellow. [plyr=pirt]"You took it?! Get your ass up against the wall!"[/plyr] With fate laughing in Karl's face, he became forceful and angry, and tried to turn Orion to face the wall. [plyr=pirt]"You thieving shits, got that lighter on you... You smoke that shit?!"[/plyr] Summoning his inner marine, Karl tried to comb Orion's pockets.

[plyr=pirt]"You trying to sell it?!"[/plyr]

[398/4066]

Group:

Tue Apr 30, 2024 9:51 pm

[plyr=navy]“He was definitely slimy enough to be a frog, but you could say the same for every other crook creeping around these docks! Rahahahaha!” [/plyr]

Truth be told, Stone felt quite embarrassed for how poorly he had handled the apprehension of Reno Grande. If things had gone just a little differently…

Well. No use dwelling on what could have happened.

Even if the Kodiak wished to brood on his perceived failures, the rhythmic flapping of man-sized wings was just loud enough to shift the Marine Captain’s attention back to reality.

Usually, Stone would keep quiet when suspicious-looking characters like Chief Foul made themselves present. And this time would be no different. That is if one of the Cipher Pol Chieftain’s feathers hadn’t happened to land right on the seated officer’s nose.

Try as he might, Stone had no technique that could save him from the monstrous sneeze that was brewing. Throwing his arm in front of his face, Stone let loose a sneeze with enough force to turn him into his full zoan form. Lowering his now fur-covered leg to the ground, Stone looked to the nearby marines before laughing once again. [plyr=navy]“Rahahahaha! My apologies everyone!”[/plyr]

Before long (but not soon enough in Stone’s eyes), The swan-man was off into the air again. Of course, not before he so graciously left two of his most important agents behind to accompany the Marines on the ferry. Thankfully, Stone’s size gave him the luxury of personal space. Though it hurt his feelings a little, it was only natural that most of the other marines had no interest in risking an accidental shoulder check into the rough waters below.

To that end, Stone hibernated near the front of the Ferry. Close enough to hear what Rear Admiral Nottingham and the other officers had to say, while also remaining far enough away to make sure he didn’t break anything important.

Drifting in and out of sleep in a futile attempt to make the journey to Carbuncle go by faster, Stone only got up for real when he heard a most unexpected name.

[plyr=navy]“The Iron Beast who trashed those two supernovas at Las Camp? Who would have thought a guy like that would be so crafty? Just goes to show that we never know what these Warlords are really up too...”[/plyr]

Word Count:

Time:

Wed May 01, 2024 12:24 pm

The group’s chit-chatter continued for a little while longer, but before long, they were already in an impromptu strategy meeting to discuss how they should proceed. Both Stout and Noah were in charge and not too long after, a plan was set in stone- each of them would be part of a group, looking into other aspects of their current mission. Stout, Maquet and Sabian would look for a way to get to Carbuncle, whereas Kathy and Noah would try to learn what was going on in the docks.

However, as eager as the redhead was to finally get going, part of the plan required him to stay put some more. They agreed to disguise themselves as dockworkers to move more freely within the docks but the outfits they would need had yet to arrive. When they eventually arrived, the operation could finally start. [plyr=revo]”Well, I’ll take your word for that.”[/plyr] he said, turned to Sabian. While the blonde sometimes loved to display unusual methods to achieve his goals, he had been successful with those so far.

A short while later, Noah was already dressed in the new outfit, going one last time through the instructions with Stout. When everything was said and clear, the operation could enter its next stage. [plyr=revo]”And just remember: if things get too dicey, get out. No need to take unnecessary risks.”[/plyr] With that out of the way, Noah’s party could be on their way.

Within the docks

Getting inside the docks was surprisingly easier than the redhead had imagined it would be. By now, the battle the Marines had with Gurdy was over and while soldiers were keeping an eye on the whole scenery, they did not question any dock workers too thoroughly, allowing the revolutionaries to slip through. As soon as they entered the docks, everybody quickly split up, trying to reach different places and hopefully overhear other conversations if possible. Now, the fun part of the job could start.

Or so he thought. [npc=misc]“Hey, you over there!”[/npc] When Noah thought he could start his little investigation, a man called him from behind and stopped the boy in his tracks. Mentally preparing to face a marine, Noah was relieved to see how just a foreman talked to him. [npc=misc]”Wait, have I seen you before? Your first day, I guess?”[/npc] Just when Noah thought he needed to plan his escape, he realized how lucky he was for the easy way out.

[plyr=revo]”Yes, my first day here today.”[/plyr] With that, he was not even lying. Similarly, the foreman looked Noah over, quickly pointing to different materials that needed to be moved. The redhead simply nodded, smiled, and started to work. Whatever helped him to better his cover and make him move a bit more freely was welcomed right now.

Following the instructions he was given, Noah regularly came near a shed, where a few soldiers made sure that nobody would come too near- which just meant that something of importance was going on in there. Unfortunately for Noah, though, there was no way for him to get in there. As such, he had to make do with what little he could pick up. And what he did pick up, managed to catch his interest.

If Noah was right, somebody, Gurdy, was interrogated in the shed. Nothing unusual so far. What did pique his interest, though, was a name that was thrown around: Iron Beast. This was a name the redhead did not expect to hear around here. The details regarding the compromised den den mushis were something which he barely thought about. For now, he increasingly felt the urge to contact his superiors- he just had to find a way out of here first.

Luckily for him, an easy escape was soon presented. From somewhere around here, a large explosion suddenly was the centre of everybody’s attention, creating some new chaos Noah could use. Moving in the opposite direction from where the sound came from, Noah quickly managed to hide in a group of workers slowly moving away from the scene. There, he started to see more and more familiar faces, first and foremost Kathy.

"Something of interest on your end?" In a hushed tone, Noah told her what he learnt, after which she would soon do the same. Some famous players were acting here today and the boy wished to forward what they had found out as quickly as possible.

WC: 736 | 3,925/10,000

Wed May 01, 2024 7:46 pm

The cola engines roared as the ferry's hull groaned, "Damn.." Volo muttered. "This is real good work." He had seen enough of his sister's work, and that of others, to know good from bad.

"Oh, can you fix things too?!" He paused for a moment, "Well.. I guess if you could fix stuff..."

"Your ship probably wouldn’t look like that..."

"Oi!" Volo snarled, "She... She just needs some work.."

"Exactly Kikikikikikiki...!" Beli signs appeared in the boy's eyes, set on getting the pi(lot)rate's treasure horde. His imagination went wild, a deserted island with an X on the ground, buried treasure, and mountains of gold.

Volo leaned over to Pinako as the boy was lost in his own imagination fueled by fortune and fame, "Is he okay...?" He whispered.

"Ehhh, what was' at boyo?"

With a sigh, he declined to repeat himself, no use quipping on deaf ears. The hag had removed her method of hearing for obvious reasons.

"You trying to sell it?!"

"Hmmm..?" Volo leaned around the corner to see Karl doing his best to run the pockets of the straggler. "Oi." He snapped his fingers in front of Winny's eyes.

"Wha..! What's going?"

"That's what I wanna know, c'mon!" Volo shouted as he took off across the deck with a smokey leap.

Without missing a beat Winny jumped onto the railing and rain across it with ease, the narrow walk over the water did nothing to deter the boys confidence. Even without a devil fruit the young grease monkey did not lag to far behind.

"Oi! New Guy!" Volo shouted to his cheap copy, "C'mon, lets back Karl up!"

WC 271/4,915

[World Event] A Fool's Errand