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| A Smith Without His Tools; Red Coin Prize | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 16 2010, 09:05 PM (316 Views) | |
| Norwegian Peasant | Jan 16 2010, 09:05 PM Post #1 |
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Peasant
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The cold wind blew against Tyler's back, as though pushing him forward to meet whatever challenge fate had in store for him. It was only a slightly unusual sight to see, the large black polo which he usually donned, did little to protect him from the cold breeze. Holes scattered themselves around it, from an earlier transformation. He hated having to use his devil fruit for that reason exactly, unfortunately circumstances had called for it. Up ahead lights and voices could be heard, along with the outlines of carved wood. Statues stood here and there along the road, giving small pieces of a puzzle only complete when you understood the true history of the isle. Based upon mythological mirth, Pharsalus was not the first place Tyler would have chosen to wind up, though he imagined his appearance in town would be less of a spectacle to those who were used to such anomalies. "Hope the food here doesn't taste as crazy as the people who make it are." Tyler spoke to himself, his stomach giving a long hard growl in reply. Despite his enormous bulk, Tyler needed little more food than any other, but what he did eat had better be good. Thinking back to the food in Osula, the hunger subsided momentarily in exchange for salivating pallet. Large amounts of grease and other unmentionable flavors ran through his mouth again, reminding him of how sick he had been after eating in a local pub. The stone gates on the outside of the city were stood in by two tall men with spears. Tyler assumed they were only for looks, and attempted to step through- but was interrupted by the sharp end of a iron rod jabbing into his stomach. He stopped and looked down at the man who as it seemed had never disliked his job more. "Whats your business here?" His voice hollowed by the mask he wore. looking into the town from the path, the usual jeering and rowdy voices heard spread through the town were no more than a muffled chatter. That along with guards placed at every other entrance made for a melancholy arrival to the interesting town. "Just come to get some food and water, heard the Inn here makes some Sea King stew the gods are jealous of." Tyler said back casually, brushing the spear to the side. The guards looked at each other for a moment, then back at Tyler, as though only imagining the damage he could do. He refrained from pointing his weapon back at Tyler, and instead stood at ease for a moment. "The Inn here has not cooked Sea King for about a month, matter of fact nobody has cooked much of anything around here. Food has been scarcer than ever before, but I suppose if you have got the money." He muttered the last part, just barely audible to Tyler's ears. He reached back and jingled the sack of Beli tied to his pants, signaling that he had plenty. The guards took a few steps to the side and started talking to each other again, letting him pass but not without a few scouring looks over him once more. He couldn't blame them, not every day you see a miniature giant walking around with holes covering his shirt. He didn't care anymore, reminded immediately of his purpose as the strong smell of something cooking wafted through the air. Following his nose, he wound up at the door of a Pub, the wooden plank above the entrance titled, "The Dragons Den." |
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Tyler Brittlestone • No Position • Blacksmith • No Crew • Bounty: 0 • SD Earned: 23 • Beli: 3,850,000 Location: North Blue - Hitsuji Archipelago Veila Viliquah • Captain • Doctor • The Nameless Pirates • Bounty: 0 • SD Earned: 10 • Beli: 1,150,000 Location: South Blue - South Amerigo Benny Cobble • No Position • Shipwright • No Crew • Rank: None • SD Earned: 0 • Beli: 500,000 Location: Out at Sea | |
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7:50 AM Jul 11